


Fire and Sharp Things

by darling_highness



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2020-07-20 11:42:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19991599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darling_highness/pseuds/darling_highness
Summary: Billy and Steve hate each other passionately. It's part misdirected anger, part teenage angst, and part testosterone-driven peacock-ing.And Hawkins really isn't big enough for the two of them.Yet, no matter how tough someone might act, there's always some insecurity just beneath the surface that they're trying to hide. Billy ends up not being able to hide his from Steve for very long after the events of Season Two go down.





	1. First Day Back

His face was _fucked_. It had been a week since Billy had utterly thrashed him, and while it didn’t look as bad as it had, a smattering of bruises and scabbing cuts still lingered. His lip had needed stitches. Even now, it was obvious that it would leave a shiny white scar down to his chin. Steve was lucky to have been allowed to stay home for a while after being discharged from the hospital. His luck couldn’t last forever, he admitted. His mother had knocked on his bedroom door to call him down for dinner, and to let him know he would be expected to go back to school tomorrow. It was the start of a new week, she said, no better time to go back.

Steve sighs. He takes one last moment to look at his visage in his bathroom mirror. There was nothing left to do but go to sleep. He turns the light off and trudges to his bed, a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. The idea of being in the same building as Billy makes his stomach flip uncomfortably.

*-*

His mother offers him her compact of foundation when he comes down for breakfast.

“We’ve got a pretty similar complexion,” she says. “I can understand you wanting to cover up those bruises, at least a little.”

Steve shakes his head, moving to drop a few slices of bread in the toaster. “It’s okay, mom. The chicks’ll feel bad for me. Might even get a date or two out of it.” He flashes a tight smile before turning back to the toaster.

His father scoffs and his mother chuckles, saying, “You don’t need sympathy for a girl to notice you, Stevie. You’ve never had trouble before.”

Steve keeps his back turned to his parents, watching the ripples of heat rise from the slots on the toaster. His mother was right, once. He doesn’t mention that Billy has essentially usurped him and his title of the king of Hawkins High. His toast pops up just as he starts to feel _really_ sorry for himself, and it’s a little burnt around the edges. He sighs, knocking the burnt bits off the crust with his butter knife before buttering the remains, crunching on it as he grabs his keys and heads out the door. He promised Dustin he would start driving him to school again, so he heads to his house first. 

Dustin doesn’t say anything about his face. He was there when it happened and also when he got the stitches. Steve’s skin is a mottled brown and purple today, not as bad as the way it looked a day after the incident. That day, huge patches of green and black ringed his eyes and blotted across the sharp lines of his cheeks and brow. His eyelids were puffy and blood vessels had burst in both his eyes. Today, though, his eyes have returned to their normal white color and the swelling was gone.

Dustin talks the entire drive, seeming never to take a breath. It’s why Steve likes him. He’s a good kid, and funny too. It was about time Steve found himself a protégé to carry on his legacy of sexy hair. The kid seems to fill that role happily. Steve can see he took his advice regarding the hairspray, the way Dustin has it styled. It still expresses his natural curls, just shaped somewhat differently. When Steve pulls into the parking lot, the boys and Max are already waiting for him. They wave at Steve and he returns the gesture, smiling as widely as he can with the stitches.

Steve drives the short distance to the high school parking lot and finds a spot for his beemer. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, before he steps out of his car and walks to the entrance. Of course, people are already taking notice of him. Everyone knows what happened. His peers stare unabashedly at his marred face. Steve doesn’t let it bother him, mustering the best _how you doin’_ look he can at any girl whose eye he catches, and in turn raises his eyebrows at the guys. He holds his chin up defiantly as he walks to his locker, not letting their whispers faze him. He likes to be in the limelight, at least for a while. And his attitude seems to be working. A couple of girls blush and smile as they pass by, offering him giggly “Hi Steve”s as they go. He hangs his jacket in his locker and takes the books he needs for his first class. Nancy brought him all the assignments he was missing while being out, so he has those in his backpack too. He pushes them aside to make room for the copy of _Great Expectations_ he’s supposed to be reading. When he feels well-enough situated, he shuts his locker and turns to head to class.

And surely enough, down the hall, a familiar figure leans casually against the lockers. Tommy and the others loiter with him, smirking and chatting idly. Billy’s attention is on a girl, probably a sophomore or junior, and she’s clearly loving it. She giggles at all the right times, and Billy is preening. That is, until he sees Steve staring. He straightens with a sneer and nudges Tommy with his elbow. All the boys look at Steve and snicker, jostling each other like the boneheads they are. Steve raises his eyebrows and keeps walking. He has no choice but to walk by them. His class is that way. But of course, Billy doesn't just let him pass.

“Look who’s back,” he stupidly assesses. Steve clenches his jaw. He just wants to go to class, or maybe have a rematch with this asshole, but most of all he doesn’t want to talk.

People are starting to stare.

“Duh.” Steve is not impressed. Talk about a cliché. He is so _beyong_ sick of Billy’s hassling by now, and it’s starting to show. He cocks his head, jutting his chin in a way that is both defiant and cocky. “That worry you?”

Billy sneers. “Why should that worry _me_? I was the one who kicked your ass!”

Steve snickers and shrugs his shoulders. “That’s not how I remember it,” he says coolly. “What I remember going down was we both got our fair share of hits in and your little sister knocked you flat on your back. But I’m sure you didn’t feel inclined to tell your friends how a twelve-year-old girl kicked your ass, did you?” Steve doesn’t even care that he can’t take credit for beating Billy to hell and back. The look on his face is satisfaction enough.

Billy’s entourage looks at him with shock for all about two seconds before the sniggering starts. Billy flushes a deep red and when the look of shock falls from his features, deep, fiery anger follows. He grabs two fistfuls of Steve’s shirt and slams him against the lockers. It makes Steve’s head bounce off the metal, and yet he can’t stop grinning. He knows how to play this game. He’s pushed all the right buttons. His smile is so wide, he can feel an uncomfortable strain on his stitches and the wet trickle of something that is probably blood. Billy reels a fist back, but before he can do anything a teacher is shouting and Billy has the good sense to let go of his shirt. Someone was smart enough to see that the two of them lock horns at any given chance and must have called an adult to make sure nothing happened. Steve looks up at Billy with smug satisfaction before straightening and dusting his shirt off. The teacher eyes them warily, waiting to see if either of them will escalate the situation, but they don’t.

Steve steps towards Billy, all too close for comfort, and says, “See you around, Billy,” before slipping by and walking towards his class. He wipes at his lip with the back of his hand to remove the bead of blood sitting just beneath it.

He feels _good_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have just noticed that the demarcation I use to divide sections in my text looks like a little face.
> 
> *-*


	2. Loud Mouth

For a while, things had been quiet. Nancy had exposed Hawkins Lab, and after they were run out of town, things seemed to go back to normal relatively quickly.

Barb’s funeral finally comes around.

He and his parents attend, as well as Nancy and her family. All of the kids and their parents come. Max is in attendance with Billy. Neither of them knew Barb, but Max is there out of respect for her friends. Billy is there because Max needed a ride.

He looks _really_ uncomfortable. Nobody is talking to him, and he’s keeping to himself as well. He had the good sense to dress nicely, at least. A suit doesn’t look bad on him, Steve thinks. He cringes at himself. Steve watches Billy from his place in his cluster that includes Nancy and Johnathan. Billy stands in the line of people waiting to give their condolences to Barb’s parents, shaking their hands when it is his turn. A look of sincere apology is on his face when he speaks to them, and it looks out of place. Steve looks away before Billy can notice him watching.

Max comes over and hugs Nancy because she’s a total mess, black streaks of mascara staining her rosy cheeks and she buries her face in Max’s fiery hair. Billy stands a few feet behind her, his hands jammed in the pockets of his trousers, ruining the lines of them. He looks between Johnathan and Steve and nods his head slightly.

“Thanks for coming.” Johnathan says. He pats Billy on the shoulder. Johnathan doesn’t have the kind of beef with Billy that Steve does. There’s no alpha-male competition between them.

“Sure,” he murmurs. When Billy and Steve look at each other, there is a stubborn set to Billy’s jaw. He doesn’t know how to handle uncomfortable situations, clearly. Steve frowns, looking away, and turns to go find Dustin. Being around Billy makes his blood boil, but now isn’t the time for a fight.

*-*

Steve focuses on his schoolwork, and on basketball. Billy can still dribble circles around him, which, ouch. It really grates on his ego. The first week back to school, he wasn’t allowed to play because of his stitches, but eventually he’s back out on the court. It’s his senior year, and he’s going to make the best of what’s left of it. 

He doesn’t have much homework being it’s the second semester and his teachers are nice. He’s not taking many serious classes anyways. A drama class, a class on English literature, basketball, a painting class, and an advanced physics class. He likes science, so sue him. It’s the only class he really has to pay attention in to pass.

So he spends his free time after school playing basketball in the gym. Sometimes there’s a couple of guys in there willing to do a game of pickup, and other times he just shoots hoops by himself. Nancy offers to play with him a couple of times. He takes her up on it.

It had been weird for a while after their breakup. He still cries sometimes when he thinks of her. His first love, and she crushes his heart under her heel. People think Nancy is a total prude, but he knows her better than they do. Because of that, he’s happy that they are able to start being friends again. He enjoys her company, even if she’s started spending more time with Johnathan Byers, but he can ignore it. He’d rather have her friendship than nothing at all.

When they play, he’s surprised. Nancy’s not bad. She’s fast and agile, being that she’s so thin and considerably smaller than Steve.

They have a fun time playing together and Nancy actually manages to sink a shot one time.

They make an effort to play once a week. It gives them the chance to catch up with each other outside of babysitting the kids. She’s gotten really serious about the school paper and has been sending her stories to the local paper to see if she can get a job there over summer.

He tells her about his painting class. She smiles and asks to see some of his work sometime.

Steve feels content.

*-*

He had been looking for Nancy when it happened.

Steve knows that she sometimes likes to smoke, especially during stressful times of the school year. She tries not to make a habit of it, but Steve has seen her slip behind the gym more than once to loiter where the smokers go to light up without trouble.

Steve rounds the corner of the gym, and there’s only one person back there. It’s _definitely_ not Nancy.

Billy is a couple of yards away sitting against the red brick with his knees to his chest, a cigarette dangling from his lips. One arm hugs his legs to his torso. His other hand pushes his hair back from his face, elbow rested on his knee. The way he’s seated, his arm blocks Steve from his view. 

Steve scowls instinctively. Just his luck that he runs into the person that harasses him every chance he gets. Steve turns on his heel to slip away but pauses when he hears the man emit a strange sound. A sound almost like… a sniffle? Perplexed, Steve leans his head around the corner again in time to see Billy’s hand move away from his face and expose a startling image. Billy’s eyes are rimmed in red and very obvious tear streaks stain his flushed cheeks.

Steve’s brain short-circuits. Is Billy… _crying_? He cannot physically comprehend this data his eyeballs are supplying him.

While error codes flash behind Steve’s eyes, Billy takes a drag from his cigarette and pulls it from his lips. His exhale is a long-suffering sigh. Billy adjusts to rest his arm on his knees and his chin on top of that when he finally sees Steve.

A look of shock crosses his features. For a split second, they’re both looking at each other like neither of them should exist in this context. Steve comes back to his senses first, realizing he’s been found out. He’s running as fast as he can when the collar of his t-shirt snags. It chokes him and he stumbles backwards against Billy’s menacing figure. Steve jerks away and faces him, braced for impact.

Billy looks furious. “Were you _spying_ on me, Harrington?! What the fuck is wrong with you!” He practically shouts.

Steve steps back farther and Billy follows, determined to keep him within hitting range. “Oh please” he scoffs. “Don’t delude yourself. I was looking for Nancy. She comes out back for a smoke every once in a while.” Steve has a few options here, and he considers which one will ensure his face doesn’t get bashed in again. He doesn’t think the shape of his nose could handle that again. He could feign ignorance. Yeah, that could work. “I don’t even know what you’re getting so worked up about. Do you really think I’m going to go out of my way to rat you out for smoking weed on campus?”

Billy looks confused. “I wasn’t…”

Steve cuts him off. “Yes, you were. Your eyes are totally bloodshot. It’s so obvious, man.” Steve is hoping and praying that Billy isn’t so stupid that he can’t understand Steve is trying to help him out.

Finally, Billy steps back a pace and breaks eye contact, instead opting to look over Steve’s shoulder. His body language has morphed into something less hostile, yet still defensive. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his too-tight jeans and sighs. “Yeah, alright. You got me. Just don’t tell anyone or I’ll fucking kill you, man. I mean it.” He walks towards Steve and bumps into him as he passes, muttering a “watch where you’re going” as he continues walking.

Steve stands there, totally freaked out and feeling like he just missed the beating of a lifetime by an inch. Something must really have Billy fucked up for him not to have punched Steve right then.

What the _fuck_.

He stands for a minute before deciding to go into the gym. Nancy is sitting on the frontmost bleacher, tying her sneaker. She looks up and smiles her tight-lipped smile at him and he tries to return the gesture. Obviously, it fails.

“What’s up?” Nancy asks, straightening.

Steve shrugs. “I ran into Billy. It was weird.” He’s not sure he wants to talk about it.

Nancy frowns, scrunching her nose in disgust at the mention of that bully. “Weird how?”

“… I think he was crying.” He drops his athletic bag on the bench beside Nancy and sits down. He’s already in his gym clothes, but his clean clothing is in the bag ready for when they’re done.

Nancy looks quizzically at him. “Huh. Weird.”

“That’s what I said.”

“I wonder why.”

Steve scoffs. “I dunno. Girls are better at this kind of emotional shit than guys. I was kind of expecting you to have a better answer than this.”

Nancy hums. “I wasn’t there, Steve, and I don’t know the guy. Maybe if I did know him, I would have a better answer for you. Every person has their issues, Steve, and I can’t imagine how deeply rooted his are. Bullies aren’t bullies for no reason. It’s usually because they’re jealous or unhappy with some aspect of their life and don’t know how to deal with it. Now get up, Harrington. I’m tired of waiting to kick your ass at some hoops.” She fixes her pearly tube sock before standing up and bouncing the ball a couple times.

*-*

His conversation with Nancy doesn’t really satisfy that niggling that his interaction with Billy left in his chest.

“What’s up with your brother?”

Max doesn’t look up from where she’s painting El’s toenails when he asks the question. “Whaddaya mean?”

He and the kids are all at Dustin’s house, the boys arguing about Dungeons and Dragons semantics, Max and El being chill per usual. Steve is sitting at the kitchen table near the archway to the living room the kids are in, nursing a cup of coffee Mrs. Henderson made him while he doodles on some homework he should be doing.

He can’t stop thinking about what he saw. “Like, I mean… did his flavor of the week dump him or something?”

“Who cares?” She asks, voice full of petulance. She and Billy aren’t exactly on the best terms. None of them are with Billy.

“I mean… Well, I was looking for Nancy the other day and I found Billy… crying.”

The room falls quiet instantly.

“ _What_?” The boys say in unison. El’s jaw is slightly agape. Max doesn’t look all that surprised. She shrugs.

“I don’t know, maybe. He doesn’t usually cry when that happens though. It might be because of his dad, more probably.” She goes back to swiping neon pink polish over El’s nails, intently focused.

“What do you mean?”

“They fight a lot. Well, no. Neil picks fights with him. If Billy does something he doesn’t like, he lets him know. I think he hits him sometimes, but he doesn’t do it around me. My mom doesn’t ever say anything to stop him though.” She is quiet for a moment. “Sometimes I think it’s because she’s afraid he’ll do it to her if she does.”

Max has set her bottle of polish down in favor of picking at her fingernails, avoiding eye contact from anyone. Everyone in the room looks deeply uncomfortable.

Mrs. Henderson, who had been washing dishes, offers a look of pity. “That poor boy,” she says. “No wonder he gets into so many fights. Corrupted by that boorish man. Such a shame.” She tuts, turning back to her dishes. Eleven and Steve look at each other. She has an expression on her face that is unreadable to him.

Steve can’t help but wonder what Billy would be like if he hadn’t been raised by a complete dick.

*-*

Steve tries to mind his business, but trouble (read: Billy) always seems to find him. He’s slammed into lockers, shoved brutally, tripped, you name it. Billy does everything he can to try and humiliate him, but Steve tries to ignore it. Now that Steve knows that Billy’s a fuckhead because he’s got a tough home life, he tries to give him the benefit of the doubt and just _ignore it_. He grits his teeth through every aggressive contact and word. The more he tries to ignore Billy, though, the worse he seems to get. The needling is incessant.

Eventually, Billy is fed the fuck up with it.

Steve is walking to class when it happens.

“Nice hair, Harrington. You getting into your moms hairspray again?” The jeer comes from behind him. It tweaks his nerves, sure, but he tries not to let it show. Instead he smirks a little and turns around to face Billy.

Steve shrugs. “Nah, I have my own. Thanks for noticing, Billy.”

The lack of reaction is exactly what Billy wasn’t expecting. Something like white-hot fury blazes across Billy’s chiseled features before a fist is making contact with Steve’s left cheek, just beneath his eye. He stumbles back, cupping his throbbing face. It fucking _hurts_. He forgot how much it hurts to be punched in the face.

A pair of big hands curl into his shirt and pull him upright. His feet nearly come off the ground with the force. He can feel Billy’s breath on his face, and when he opens his right eye, Billy is _right_ there. “What’s _wrong_ with you, Harrington?! What are you doing??”

“Nothing.” Steve says nonchalantly. “Just not reacting to your bullshit anymore.” Steve grabs one of Billy’s fists and works the fingers out of his shirt, and Billy doesn’t really fight it. He does it to the other hand. “Try solving your problems without punching things some time, dude. It gets old.”

Billy’s face is a mosaic of emotion that Steve can’t parse out. He doesn’t get long to try, though. A teacher grabs the both of them and drags them away to the principal.

*-*

“What is wrong with the two of you?” The principal asks once they are haphazardly thrown into the chairs before his desk. Mr. Johnson is a big man with very little neck and sausage fingers. He folds his meaty hands on his leather-topped desk, looking between the two of them with frustration. Steve looks at Billy, whose arms are folded tightly, and his chin is tucked into his chest. He is slouched deep into his chair.

“I didn’t do anything.” Steve says.

“Besides be a fucking pussy?” Billy snips.

“William!” Mr. Johnson bellows. “You watch your language! I won’t tolerate this kind of insolence in my school. This is not the first time you two have had issues. You both get detention for one week. I don’t know how else to fix this.”

Steve straightens, mouth agape. “Are you kidding me?! Do you see my face??? He gives me a black eye and I get DETENTION? This is fucked!”

Mr. Johnson sighs in exasperation, levelling an unimpressed glare at him. “Mr. Harrington. Being that I do not and cannot know what was said to instigate this, I will not know certainly that the blame lies entirely on Mr. Hargrove. Maybe detention will teach you not to engage this sort of behavior.”

Steve looks angrily at Billy. Billy ignores him. Rage that has been pent up within him from days of ignoring abuse finally bubbles up. He kicks Billy in the knee, hard. He slams his foot into the side of his leg repeatedly, before the teacher who dragged them in there pulls him away from Billy. “You fucking asshole! Get over yourself! I’m not your fucking abusive dad! I don’t _care_ if he hits you! That doesn’t mean you get to fuck with ME! Figure your shit out with _him_ , not _me_ , you asshole! I don’t deserve this, OR detention!”

Mr. Johnson is staring at Billy. Billy is staring at Steve. His face is white as a sheet. Mr. Johnson clears his throat. “Please see Mr. Harrington to the nurse, Mr. Wayne. I need to have a word with Mr. Hargrove, alone.”

“No, please,” Billy pleads. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

That’s the last thing Steve hears before he is jerked out of the office and walked down the hall to Miss Brady’s office.

The fight drains out of him when Billy leaves his sight, and guilt replaces the rage. It wasn’t his place to bring that shit up.

Fuck.


	3. Detention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends! Hello! Happy 2020! I'd like to start with an apology. I had such a passion for this story, and for some reason I stopped writing it. For six whole months. I feel so bad about that! As an apology, I've written a rather long chapter. I hope you're all still interested in this story! I'd like to warn you before you dive in that there is some light, era-appropriate internalised homophobia. I didn't want to delve too deep into that just yet, but it is present. This story and the concept of sexuality has been challenging to write in a way that makes sense for the 80s. Anyways, please enjoy and let me know what you think.

**Billy**

He hates the way Mr. Johnson is looking at him. That look of pity was so degrading – it makes him feel puny. Billy glares at the principal defiantly, white-knuckling the armrest of the chair he’s sitting in. His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest, and he hopes Mr. Johnson can’t tell.

“I understand this can be a difficult conversation to have,” he begins slowly, “but you must understand that my intention is to help you. I cannot help you if you don’t tell me what is going on between you and your father, Billy.”

Billy grits his teeth. “Nothing is going on, _sir_. I’m fine. Harrington is just trying to make more trouble for me. Me n’ my old man’re fine.” He can’t seem to make himself meet the principal’s eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

A long pause. Billy can hear the hiss of air as Mr. Johnson leans back into his chair, compressing the cushions. Billy can feel his eyes on him, and it makes him squirm. “If that’s the case, so be it,” he says dubiously. “You still get a week of detention, Mr. Hargrove. Maybe it will teach you to get along better with your peers.”

Billy groans. It feels like Mr. Johnson is giving him an ultimatum. Talk, no detention. Don’t talk, and there’s no excuse for your attitude, then you get detention. He’d rather a whole year of detention than to bring anybody into this situation with his dad. It would only end up going badly for him.

Detention it is.

**Steve**

Yet again, the public-school system has failed to take any meaningful kind of action when faced with a difficult situation.

Steve is in detention. So is Billy. Steve, the victim in this case, has been mad dogged by Billy for an hour straight for almost two days now. He cringes at the thought that he has another three days of this kind of punishment.

Steve sighs, slouching and leaning his head back so far it clunks on top of the desk behind him. He tilts his head slightly to the left so he can see Billy’s angry eyes. “Don’t you get sick of making that face?” Steve murmurs.

The teacher running this detention session fell asleep about 15 minutes into the hour. He’s not worried about waking her.

Billy, somehow, scowls harder. “Fuck you.” Is all he says.

Steve smirks. “I know you want to, but I’ll have to pass,” he hums. Billy stands up quickly, his chair scraping loudly on the floor as he does. He looks ready to attack, face red with obvious rage, but the teacher barks at him to sit down. Her glasses are askew on her nose, and she is bleary-eyed, but her voice is commanding, and he does not argue. Billy, after a moment of weighing his options, sits with a deflated sound and crosses his arms over his chest. “Wise choice,” Steve mutters when the teacher has rested her head back atop her arms to resume her nap. “I know you don’t want to sit through this for another week.”

“I really don’t,” Billy concedes. That’s the least aggressive thing he’s ever heard Billy say. Two and a half sessions of detention must have broken him somewhat.

Steve turns his head so his eyes are back on the ceiling. He can still feel Billy’s wary gaze upon him. “I’d rather be playing basketball,” Steve says, forlorn. Nancy seemed disappointed when he said he wouldn’t be able to play this week. The look on her face made something in his chest squeeze uncomfortably. He didn’t like to tell her “no” about _anything_ , even something as small as a game of basketball.

Billy remains quiet. He’s idle for a moment before reaching into his leather jacket and pulling out a pocketknife. Steve blanches. “What’re you doing?” he hisses. Billy ignores him as he flips the blade open, placing the tip against the wood of his desk. Steve watches as Billy carves “STEVE SUX” into the desk. He rolls his eyes.

And so it goes for the rest of the week. Steve reads a book and does other productive things. Billy vandalizes school property. Suum cuique.

Typically, when detention ends for the day, Billy stands up as fast as possible and nearly sprints out the door. Steve figures it’s so they don’t have to bear the awkwardness of walking to the school parking lot together.

However, on the last day they have detention, the Tuesday a week after Billy sucker-punched him, Billy lingers in the doorway. His eyes are on Steve, tentative. Steve slings his backpack over his shoulder, wary of what might be going on. His black eye is almost healed. If he could avoid getting yet another one, that would be great. He runs his fingers delicately over the fine white scar running the length of his lip and chin, a scar that mars his otherwise perfect complexion. It’s become a subconscious habit now that it’s healed. Billy’s eyes follow the motion of his fingers, and he swallows thickly. He brings his eyes back up to Steve’s and clears his throat. “Um… What’re you reading?”

The question takes Steve by surprise. “Uh, what?”

Billy sounds, somehow, more hesitant the second time he asks. “What were you reading in detention today?” His eyebrows furrow slightly, a crease appearing between them.

“Oh. I’m reading The Picture of Dorian Gray… It’s about this guy who wishes he could be young forever, and he kind of gets his wish.” Steve shrugs.

“’Kind of’ gets his wish? What do you mean?” Billy asks. They’re walking now, Billy’s hands jammed deep in his jacket pockets, Steve’s thumbs looped into the straps of his backpack.

Steve is reeling. He can barely hear Billy’s questions because his brain is working so hard to process why it is that Billy is _even talking to him_. He stutters. “Well- um- he, well he… I’m not going to tell you what I mean. If you want to find out, read it yourself,” Steve says as he shrugs his backpack off his shoulder and fishes inside for the book. He pulls it out and shoves it into Billy’s chest, and his hands jump out of his pockets to grab the tome before it falls to the ground. He looks at the cover quizzically for a moment before turning towards Steve to protest. “I’ve read it before, don’t worry. I was just reading it over because Nancy’s reading it for the first time and wanted someone to talk to about it. I was almost done anyways. Just take it, Billy.”

Billy shuts his mouth. He looks confused. He stares down at the book in his hands as they walk, eyes darting over the delicate features of the portrait on the cover. “Thanks…” he grunts. Steve nods. 

“Sure. Let me know what you think. See you around, Billy.”

-

The next time he encounters Billy, it’s about two weeks later and Steve’s with Nancy, Jonathan, and the kids. Mike, Will, El, Dustin, Lucas, and Max are in the basement of Nancy’s house when Billy rolls up in his obnoxious sports car. The moment Max hears that telltale rumble she sprints upstairs and out the front door. Best not to keep him waiting. The older kids are sitting in the living room working on a class project, all but forgotten in favor of looking out the window at this personified bucket of rage and narcissism. He looks handsome as always, leaning against the hood of his car to smoke a cigarette before taking Max home, oozing nonchalance. He only half-heartedly attempts to convince himself the only reason he notices Billy’s good looks is because it’s obvious, _totally_ not because he has any personal interest.

Nancy looks at him warily as he stands. “Steve…” she warns, but Steve ignores her. He’s feeling brave. After their stint on the inside (re: detention), the fire between them seems to have cooled a little. One might even be able to call their relationship a civil rivalry nowadays.

Steve grabs his jacket before exiting the house, slipping his hands into the denim pockets. He can look nonchalant too. He walks at a casual pace over to Billy, and Billy sneers as he approaches. Yet, Steve doesn’t falter. He stops a few paces from where Billy’s feet are crossed on the pavement, giving him a measuring look. When he reaches Billy’s eyes, the man greets him with a grunt that vaguely sounds like his last name. Steve cocks his head in acknowledgement, standing silently for a measure. He sees Max is busy in the passenger’s seat with Mike’s copy of the D&D Handbook, totally unaware of the happenings outside of the car. Steve brings his attention back to Billy.

“You can’t get defensive about what I’m about to ask you.”

Billy immediately bristles. “I don’t get defensive.”

“You’re doing it right now,” he retorts.

Billy opens his mouth to argue but falters, shifting his gaze away. He takes a pull on his cigarette and levels his features.

“Do you have friends, Billy?” Steve leans back on his heels, almost subconsciously bracing for a hit.

Billy glares at him, and the restraint he’s exercising is written all over his face. “’Course I do. Plenty. They all used to be your friends, didn’t they? Till I came around and showed them what a real man is,” Billy smirks. His eyes are twinkling. He obviously wants a fight, but Steve isn’t letting him goad him.

“I don’t mean those leeches. I mean real friends, people you can talk to, people you can be your true self with. Not idiots who need guidance from the biggest meathead in school. Do you have _real_ friends, Billy?”

Billy had been looking at him until he asked the question again. At that point, he looks past Steve’s shoulder, a dark look clouding his chiseled features. They stand in silence for a long time as Billy smokes down the rest of his cigarette. Steve surmises he’s not going to get an answer when Billy drops the butt on the ground and crushes it under his heel.

Steve turns to lean against the hood of the car beside Billy, looking up the residential street he’s parked on. “The only reason I ask is because I’m sick of us being enemies, man. I’m just tired of it. You’ve already beat me in the high school popularity contest, and in some ways I’m grateful for that. It showed me who my true friends are. If you’re looking for some actual friends that you don’t have to pretend around, you know where to find me. That is, if you can stand to be seen with me.” And with that, Steve straightens, walking towards the Wheeler household without another glance back. If he had taken a moment to look over his shoulder, he would have seen a conflicted and confused look lingering on Billy’s face as he got into his car.

-

For a few weeks, nothing happens. Steve all but forgets about their conversation, returning to his normal routine. That is, until Billy sits down with them at lunch one day. Nancy and Steve had been sitting at one of the outdoor tables around the corner of the cafeteria, talking about the future when Billy plops himself down. He straddles the cold metal bench to the left of Steve, attempting to discreetly mask a lit cigarette in his cupped hand. He doesn’t look at either of them, but Nancy and Steve are staring at him in bewilderment. He sits there, staring past the duo. His hands are shaking, and it’s a fine tremor, barely noticeable if you weren’t really looking. Steve sees it, though. This has to be hard for him, Steve thinks. They sit in silence for a while. Billy smokes his cigarette, stoic.

“Hi Billy,” Nancy says.

He grunts.

Nancy looks at Steve, more confused than she’s probably ever been in her life. Steve shrugs and makes a face to say _I’ll tell you later_. She appears dubious, yet they resume their previous train of thought eventually.

And so it goes for a while. Billy will sit with them at lunch, more often than not. He rarely speaks the first few weeks. Steve notices that with time, Billy’s posture seems to loosen. He’ll laugh occasionally at something someone’s said, but he never really contributes more than that to the conversations.

And then, for some reason, Jonathan Byers starts sitting with their little menagerie too. Probably invited by Nancy.

He’s actually the reason Billy speaks for the first time. Jonathan had been telling Nancy about this new cassette he got- some band called Chequered Past- when Billy pipes up.

“I think Steve Jones is a really talented guitarist. It was a huge bummer when Sex Pistols broke up, so it’s good to see him doing something again after The Professionals,” Billy utters, totally nonchalant.

Jonathan looks like he has whiplash. He blinks. And blinks again. He shakes his head so as to clear some invisible fog before saying “I wouldn’t have guessed you were so into punk rock…”

Billy scoffs. “’Course I am. Why do you think Max is such a punk? It’s not from her mom, that’s for sure.” He smiles inwardly, as if he’s proud of Max. Then, he seems to remember himself, smile faltering as if he feels he’s said too much. Running his fingers through his hair, he regains his neutral composure. He is silent again.

After that little quip, he slowly begins to contribute more and more to their conversations. His smiles come more easily. Every time Steve catches a glimpse of that dazzling grin, he feels dizzy. Something flitters in his chest. If Billy were a chick Steve would say it meant something, but he’s not, so it doesn’t. He gently suppresses the way Billy makes him squirm, packing that away in a corner of his brain that also hosts long-simmering guilt for Barb’s death, amongst other things. Those are the thoughts he chooses to ignore.

**Billy**

He’s terrified. He knows he shouldn’t be, but he is. They’re just _people_. He was _invited_ to sit with them. So why is he so damn scared of the idea?

When Tommy asks him where he’s going at lunch, why he’s not sitting with them, Billy ignores him. He pulls out his pack of cigarettes as a kind of excuse, and Tommy drops it. He goes back to talking to Carol and Billy slips out of the inside cafeteria to find Harrington. He knows where he sits. He’s seen him at the cold metal tables around the corner of the cafeteria windows, under the corrugated awning, plenty of times. It’s a discrete location, away from the direct hustle of other students. The table overlooks a grassy field that leads to overcast forest some distance away.

Billy lights a cigarette as he walks. His hands tremble slightly as he flicks the flint of his lighter. He hasn’t had to try to make friends in years. He’s always just been content with the people who flock to him for shallow reasons. Yet, Steve’s question left him feeling hollow. It felt like he’d been dunked in an ice bath, the realization that he has no one. No one who really knows him. Not since his mother. The word “lonely” floats to the surface of his thoughts, and he turns his attention to his cigarette when the idea lingers too long. His feet have been carrying him on a sort of autopilot while he dwelt on his pessimistic thoughts, and now he’s standing right beside the place he expected to find Steve. He’s sitting there with Nancy, and she’s talking about god knows what. He can hardly hear her voice over the pounding in his ears. His slender legs move him without consultation of his better judgement, and he’s straddling the metal bench. He’s sitting next to Steve now. He doesn’t notice Nancy has fallen silent until he glances at her and sees her rosy lips are no longer moving. Yet, the world has not ended. He’s still alive, still breathing. It quiets the anxiety buzzing in his brain enough that he hears her greet him, yet not enough for him to be able to muster more than a grunt. They eventually realize he doesn’t plan on saying much, and resume chatting.

-

It gets easier every time. They don’t pressure him into speaking, but Nancy tries her best to include him in their conversations. He’s not good at small talk, which is all she can offer when she hardly even knows him. Yet, they seem content with him just sitting with them. The first time, Steve looked

**Steve**

It’s a Friday afternoon. He’s taking Dustin to Will’s house. Nancy’s car is already parked out front when they get there. It makes Steve’s heart clench. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of Jonathan, but he knows he needed a lot of work to be good enough for Nancy, which, he reflects, is a surprisingly mature thought for an 18-year-old. He wonders if Nancy would be impressed with how mature he thinks he’s become since they broke up.

Dustin’s door slamming shakes him from his introspection. He doesn’t remember turning his car off. He gets out and walks towards the door, Dustin leaving him in the dust in favor of sprinting inside to greet his friends. He’s got a single foot on the porch when the telltale rumble of a notorious black sportscar peels up the street. He turns to watch as Billy drives up the road with his sister in the passenger seat. The car has barely rolled to a stop before Max is jumping out, her features pinched. Billy doesn’t look so happy either. He glares when he notices Steve looking at him. Steve gives him an unimpressed brow-raise. Billy parks his car, slamming the shifter with more force than necessary, and gets out of the car. He’s all attitude, slamming the door behind him and walking with a pompous strut. He’s carrying something. It’s the book Steve lent him more than a month back now. He sees that when Billy holds it out to him, silent.

Steve takes it. “What’d you think?”

Billy’s brow creases more deeply and he shrugs, hands shoved deep into the front pockets of his jeans. “It took me a while to get through. I can’t- I don’t… I don’t read a lot. It was good though. It seemed like Dorian’s friend was way too into him though. Kind of creepy.”

“Who, Basil Hallward? Yeah, I definitely think there was some subtext there… You know, Oscar Wilde was bisexual.”

“The author?” Billy tilts his head. “What does that even mean?”

“He had a wife and kids, but he was convicted of “gross indecency” for having sex with men. Someone accused him of committing sodomy and he sued that guy for saying that, but he was able to prove that his claim wasn’t bogus. Basically, he discovered that Wilde had been seeing male prostitutes and things like that, so Wilde was arrested, convicted, and killed for it.” Steve is nonchalant while explaining all of this. It’s an interesting concept, bisexuality. To be able to love both men and women. If he had to find a label to define his own sexuality, bisexual would probably be the closest approximation. He doesn’t talk about that to anyone though, not even his mom. His mother had dated both men and women before marrying his father, but that was no surprise. Being an artist and a hippy, it would have been anomalous to Steve if she _hadn’t_ had that kind of history. He suspects she expressed these proclivities to him to show him that it was acceptable for him to be not straight, but he wasn’t sure his father felt the same way. It was un-masculine to be interested in things like that. Though that was where he was lucky, he thought. Because while he could be interested in guys, he still liked women well enough. So, he could have a normal life with a wife and kids and be perfectly happy.

He saw how the gay kids in school were shunned. He didn’t want that for himself. So he ignored it.

“Oh,” is all Billy says. He’s looking at Steve with an expression he just can’t understand. Steve stares back at him, taking in his appearance. It’s try-hard, if you asked Steve. His hair is manicured to look carefree, he’s wearing a single dangling earring in his left ear, a necklace with a small pendant bearing an image of the Virgin Mary surrounded by gold braiding, his blue denim jacket, and a white shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the necklace and his immaculately tanned skin beneath. He clearly cares about what people think of him. Steve knows what that kind of concern looks like, from experience.

Steve clears his throat. He’s staring, and Billy doesn’t stop him. They’re leaning closer together than he remembers. He blinks. “Um… want to go inside and talk to Nancy about the book?” He goes for a casual tone, missing by a mile. His voice is strained. The air between them feels taut, like a guitar string about to break. Billy presses his lips together and nods. Some of the tension seems to ease. Steve enters and Billy follows.


	4. Baseball Bat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teenage angst. You know how it goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that? Two updates in less than three days?? I thought about waiting to post this chapter, but I really wanted to have you guys read it. A heads up, there's some smut and it't not between Billy and Steve (yet). Please enjoy, and tell me what you think!
> 
> For the record, this is taking place in roughly March of 1985 (just before season 3).

Steve wakes with a start. His head flies up from his pillow and he’s gasping, choking on the air he had so missed.

He wakes up like this often. He can’t control what he thinks when he sleeps. It seeps into his dreams. The guilt, the heartbreak, the Upside Down.

He’s confused. There are images flashing behind his clenched-shut eyes, images of gruesome monsters with too-long nails and a desiccated corpse. Nancy’s face twisted in agony, bloodied. He doesn’t know whose blood it is. It shouldn’t feel this real. These are all memories of the nightmare that disturbed him, quickly fading in his wakeful state. As the panic of imminent doom subsides, existential dread and the familiar feeling of an aching heart take its place. He’s not awake enough to fend off the feelings of self-doubt Nancy dumping him left him with. He’s scared that he’ll never be good enough for anyone. That he’ll be alone.

He also blames himself for Barb’s death. He knows Nancy blames him for his negligence. She’ll never tell him that, but he knows she thinks if they had acted faster, if Steve hadn’t told her not to worry, that they might have been able to save Barb.

Steve slips out of bed. He instinctively picks up the baseball bat leaning in the corner, the one with the nails sticking out. It makes him feel safe. He walks out to the landing at the top of the stairs and gazes about the dim room. The high, beamed ceilings and the open floor plan make it feel hauntingly empty. Not to mention his parents are out of town again. An uncomfortable shiver crawls up his spine. He descends the stairs slowly, fingers trailing over the banister as he goes. He slides the back door to the pool open and pauses to inhale. The winter air is biting cold. He steps out anyways, bare feet uncomfortable against the freezing concrete. He walks onto the diving board and sits on the end of it. This is where she was the last time anybody saw her. Steve looks over the edge into the greenish water, wondering what would happen if he just… tipped… forward. His parents wouldn’t be home for another five days. They’d find him then. The nightmares would stop, at least. But that seems to be the only upside to that idea. He couldn’t do such a thing to his friends.

Steve sits in the cold for an interminable amount of time, feet gently swaying above the pool’s surface. He looks out into the forest beyond his yard. There’s probably nothing out there watching him, but he just has that cold feeling in his chest that tells him otherwise. Jonathan was out there watching them, and he didn’t even know it. How could he know if someone (or some _thing_ ) was there now? He couldn’t, and he didn’t _want_ to know. There was no way to tell, especially if that something was watching from the Upside Down.

Knowing that there was a parallel reality to this one laying just beneath the surface never ceased to unsettle him. Who knew when a door to this world would open again?

Steve stands up carefully, inching his way back to the safety of the concrete. He goes inside and shuts the door, returning to his bedroom.

He wouldn’t fall asleep for another hour.

-

He feels like shit when his alarm goes off. The lack of sleep and the nightmares made it almost impossible to get out of bed. He decides almost immediately that he’s not going to school today. He gets out of bed, wrapped in a blanket, to call Nancy.

He has her home phone number memorized. He dials it with the ease of his muscle memory, and Mrs. Wheeler picks up after a few rings. “Wheeler household, Karen speaking,” She greets in her singsong way.

“Good morning, Mrs. Wheeler, it’s Steve Harrington. Is Nancy there?” Steve’s voice is raspy. He tries to clear his throat.

“She sure is, dear. I’ll pass you over to her.”

There’s some fumbling on the other line, and then Nancy’s voice. “Steve?”

“Hey Nance.”

“Is everything okay? You sound terrible.”

“I’m fine,” Steve says, shifting to lean his shoulder against the wall, next to the cradle for the pale-yellow phone in his hand. He has the receiver pinned between his shoulder and his ear and he’s using the hand not holding his blanket to fiddle absently with the curly phone cord. “Well, I’m feeling a bit under the weather is all. I was hoping you could get my assignments from my teachers so I can keep up with my schoolwork.”

“Yeah, of course. Your parents aren’t home, are you going to be able to take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, thanks Nance. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. Feel better soon, okay?”

“Okay. Bye.” He puts the phone back into the cradle and trudges back upstairs to sleep some more.

It’s two in the afternoon when he wakes again. The house is quiet. A beam of golden sunlight shines across his face, and the birds chirp outside. If there ever was a word for the opposite of a pathetic fallacy, it would be fitting in this instance. It feels like a pit of despair has opened up within his stomach. It happens sometimes, usually when his parents are gone. There’s less to distract him from his duress when they are.

Usually he can power through it. Pick himself up and go to school, go through the motions. But right now, he just doesn’t have it in him. It’s okay to be weak sometimes, he thinks. And so weak can he be.

-

**Billy**

“Where’s Steve?”

Nancy looks up at Billy. “He stayed home today. Not feeling well apparently.”

Billy frowns. He’d been looking forward to seeing Steve. He had, surprisingly, taken a trip to the library on Friday afternoon. After asking the librarian for some recommendations, he left with a single book: _The Great Gatsby_ by F. Scott Fitzgerald. He wanted to read more. Nancy always seemed so smart, and she read a lot. He wanted to be able to talk to her more. Of the three of them, she’s the one he understands least, and it isn’t just because she was a woman. He gets chicks, knows how they work. Well, he knows how they work in a… sexual context. He couldn’t really say he’d had any platonic female friends. Not since he was about five.

The point is, he’s trying.

-

Billy’s walking with Nancy and Jonathan to the school parking lot later that day when the vultures descend.

“Hey _Billy_! There you are!” Carol’s shrill voice cries out from somewhere to his right. He turns to face her, and Tommy H. is standing beside her, a cruel smirk on his face. Carol’s sitting on the railing of some walkway, ankles crossed and legs swinging in a juvenile manner. Her grin is reminiscent of a hyena ready to pounce.

“Why’re you hanging out with these dweebs, Hargrove? That where you been sneaking off to these past few weeks? D’you knit now, you fuckin’ dandy?” Tommy jeers.

Billy’s face flushes and the tips of his ears are hot. “Fuck off, Tommy. They’re cool, alright? Leave me alone.”

Tommy scoffs. “Nah, _you_ fuck off. Let’s go do something fun. I got a couple’a jays in my bag we’ve been meaning to smoke. Ditch these nerds and let’s break into my dad’s liquor cabinet. He ain’t fuckin’ care if we do.”

Billy’s eyes dart between Nancy and Tommy. He didn’t necessarily have plans with Nancy and Jonathan after class, so what could be the harm? He looks at Nancy and says, “I’ll, uh, see you guys tomorrow?” And Nancy’s face falls. She looks hurt, the way her lower lip juts slightly and the way her brow is furrowed. Jonathan frowns and leads Nancy away. Billy turns back to Carol and Tommy, his so-called friends, and offers a half-hearted smirk.

“I thought you’d gone soft on me, man,” Tommy shakes his head, grinning dumbly.

Billy punches his arm in lieu of a verbal response. In a way, he’d missed this. Rather, he missed the mischief they got up to after school.

The trio disappears into the woods just beyond the field of the school and light up, burning down two joints in about an hour and generally being stupid. After they get bored of each other, Billy turns his attention to the Hawkins High cheer squad practicing on the field. It’s no surprise the girls in tight shorts and high ponytails catches his eye. The three of them drift onto the field and watch for a while, Billy chatting the girls up whenever they get close enough. The coach doesn’t tell them to leave but is clearly not happy with the distraction Billy is causing amongst the girls. Hell, why shouldn’t they be distracted when he looks this good? Billy winks at a girl who’s been shamelessly eye-fucking him for the last minute and she swoons. She’s pretty easy on the eyes, he reflects. Carol says her name is Luanne, and she’ll blow you if you ask her nicely.

So he does.

Practice ends and Billy shoots his shot. He tells Carol and Tommy he’ll meet up with them later. Billy offers to carry Luanne’s athletic bag, asks if she has a ride home.

“Julie was gonna give me a ride, but if you’re offering, I’ll ride you any time,” She smiles sweetly and bats her eyelashes at him. Billy swallows, trying his best not to react to the blatant innuendo. This is almost too easy.

They get in his car and he drives them -much too fast, though Luanne seems thrilled- to a secluded spot under some trees and parks the car. Her hand has been inching up his thigh the entire drive. It’s hard to conceal the strain in his pants. They kiss frantically in the front seat for a few minutes before he ushers her into the cramped back seat of his coup for more privacy. She eagerly undoes his belt, freeing his cock with practiced ease. Her mouth is on him immediately and he groans. It’s been a while. He tries his best to enjoy it, which isn’t hard, but there’s something niggling at him. He can’t stop thinking about Steve. Of all the times for the man to be on his mind, this has to be about the worst. Yet, for some reason, the idea of Steve’s face doesn’t kill his boner. He tangles his fingers in Luanne’s hair, tightening his fist in the silky locks. She moans around his girth, and he thrusts it into her throat. She doesn’t tell him to stop when he does it again. And again, and again. Luanne grips his hips as he fucks the hell out of her throat, gasping for air every time he pulls out enough. It takes a while, but he eventually comes, buried to the hilt in the wet heat of her mouth. Steve’s name almost spills from his lips when he finishes, but he manages to restrain himself. He can’t help but feel a little dirty. Steve’s his friend. His male friend.

He drives Luanne home. She seems sated with their interaction. He doesn’t say much to her. He doesn’t need to. The girl babbles about god knows what the entire drive. Before she gets out of the car, she kisses his cheek and thanks him profusely for the ride home. Billy sits in his car staring out the windshield for a while, contemplative. He’s frustrated, and he can’t understand why. He doesn’t understand a lot of what just happened. Steve shouldn’t be so prevalent in his thoughts. It’s just not right.

Billy drives home on autopilot, Carol and Tommy all but forgotten. He enters the house, attempting to be as inconspicuous as he can. Max’s mom is sitting on the couch in the living room, crocheting some doily. The living room is dark aside from the blue-tinted flickering of the television casting an eerie glow on the faces of the room’s inhabitants. His father is reclined in his Lazy Boy, a beer in hand and several other cans in a semi-pile to the right of the chair. He glares when Billy enters.

“You didn’t pick Max up from school, asshole.” His father growls.

“Sorry sir,” Billy mumbles hazily. He drifts past the two of them, down the narrow hall to his room. He doesn’t hear his father approaching him until it’s too late. He’s slammed into the cheap wallpaper, the wind knocked from his chest. His father is an inch from his face, the acrid smell of alcohol seeping from his pores. The man’s thick arm presses into his throat, pinning him. Billy’s been here before. He’s used to this. He doesn’t resist because he knows it’ll only make his father angrier.

“Neil, please!” His stepmother whimpers from somewhere past Billy’s line of sight.

Neil pays no attention to her, eyes blazing as they stare into Billy’s. “You have an obligation to your _sister_ to make sure she has a way of getting from school. What’s your fuckin’ excuse, you good-for-nothing piece of shit? You stink like weed!”

Billy stares his father down, features passive. “I wanted to hang out with my friends. She got home alright, didn’t she?” He knows he’s playing a dangerous game, talking to his father like this.

The moments the words leave his lips, he feels skin and bone colliding with the side of his face and sending a bolt of excruciating pain through his jaw and temple. His knees buckle slightly, but his father’s arm on his throat keeps him standing. “THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!” The man roars. It sends a sickening pulse of adrenaline through Billy’s chest.

Billy can feel the prickle of tears in his eyes and it makes him flush in embarrassment. He hopes Neil, in his drunken state, doesn’t notice. Men don’t cry. “Sorry sir,” he whispers. “I’ll do better.”

Neil sneers. “I’d like to see you try.” He pushes his son away and turns to resume his position in his recliner.

He sees his stepmom staring at him, eyes wide and brow furrowed. The look of pity in her face makes him fucking _angry_. He glares at her and storms off to his room. Before he throws the door open, he can see Max peering through the crack of her door. She looks guilty. Billy ignores her and stomps into his room, slamming the door behind himself.

He runs his fingers through his dirty-blonde curls, tugging aggressively at them. He groans, his frustration becoming too much to control. Tears spill down his cheeks in burning streaks and he yells, sending his fist through the wall. The wallpaper rips and a puff of drywall curls lazily upwards when he pulls his fist out, breath coming in labored pants. His anger subsides somewhat and his fist aches. He wipes the back of his hand over his wet eyes and takes a measured breath. Surprisingly, Neil doesn’t come break down his door when he hears the thump of Billy’s fist into the wall. Which probably means he _didn’t_ hear it.

Billy moves one of his surf posters to cover the hole. There. Good as new.

He sits upright on his bed with his back leaned against the wall, more tears staining his features. His cheek is throbbing from the blow, and his heart aches. He misses his mother so much.

He draws his knees to his chest and silently cries into them.

-

Steve doesn’t come to school for another two days. It worries Billy. When Nancy went to drop off his homework, he didn’t answer. She’s thinking she needs to call Hopper and ask him to check in on Steve, she explains to Billy and Jonathan. Mostly Jonathan. She’s been rather standoffish towards Billy.

“What did I do, Nancy? I don’t get why you seem like you’re mad at me.” Billy asks. No point to beat about the bush.

Nancy pauses for a second, somewhat shocked by the candor. “You hung out with Carol and Tommy H. after they said all those rude things about us. When you do that it makes me think you agree with them.”

Billy frowns. “I… don’t agree with them. I hung out with them because, um…” And he pauses, trying to form the words. Communication isn’t his strong suit. “They like to do things that you guys don’t like to do? Things that I also like to do? I just wanted to have some fun with them. I’m sorry, Nancy.”

She smiles a little, clearly understanding that it wasn’t easy for him to explain himself. “It’s okay, Billy.”

Nancy seems less cold towards him for the rest of lunch, seemingly satisfied by his apology. Billy sits in silence, worrying about Steve. More like, he’s frustrated about Steve. He can’t get the man out of his goddamned mind! Billy feels like he’s been poisoned. His thoughts aren’t normal of the straight guy that he is. That he has to be. He personally has no problem with gay people. Growing up in California exposed him to plenty of those folks. But here, in the middle of Buttfuck Nowhere, Indiana, things like that don’t go well. There are plenty of religious zealots with opinions, and it’s a small town. Rumors might spread. Besides, he’s happy enough banging girls at Hawkins High, and they seem happy enough to _be_ banged by him.

But then there’s Steve.

Billy feels like he wouldn’t be having these thoughts if Steve hadn’t put the idea of Oscar Wilde – of bisexuality – into his head. He’s angry, because he feels like he could have carried on perfectly happy not wondering whether or not that title might fit himself. He had no way of knowing, having never had an experience like that with a guy, whether it would. But he _wanted_ to know. Somewhere deep down, he was filled with this obscene curiosity of what it would be like to kiss a man.

The idea of his father finding out that he wants such things nauseates him. He thinks he probably wouldn’t survive the beating. He’d have to fight back, and that route wasn’t safe for his future either.

The safest bet was to ignore it.

There’s a lull in Nancy and Jonathan’s conversation. Without much thought, Billy says, “I can take Steve’s homework to him today, Nance. If you want.”

“Sure,” she says. She opens her bag and fishes a small stack of papers out and writes Steve’s address on the empty corner of the top sheet. “Thanks, Billy. Will you make sure he’s okay? I’m worried about him.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.”

-

Billy drives Max home before he goes to Steve’s. He’s learned his lesson. He was grateful Nancy didn’t mention the purple and black mottling about his left eye. He could tell by her frown that she had noticed it (hard not to), but she didn’t say anything.

He finds Steve’s house easily. Hawkins is small. He sits parked on the street in front of the address, staring at the house. Damn. Harrington is fuckin’ _rich_. It’s a giant building surrounded by immaculately groomed shrubbery. Steve’s car is parked in front of the petite garage. Billy picks the papers off of his passenger seat and walks to the front door. There’re no papers sitting where Nancy mentioned she left them, so Steve’s probably been waiting for her to leave before retrieving them.

Billy rings the doorbell. He waits. Nothing happens. What feels like a minute passes. He can hear music playing inside the house. Someone’s home.

Billy rings the doorbell again. When nothing happens _again_ , he rings the bell again. He’s already agitated, and this isn’t helping. Billy stabs the doorbell repeatedly, incessantly, hoping it’ll annoy Steve as much as Steve is annoying him by not. Fucking. Answering!

He mashes the button into the socket and holds it down, letting the bell drone on. Billy can hear stomping (stumbling?) above the bell and the music, and the door flies open. And there’s Steve. He looks mad. Billy smirks, releasing the doorbell with a smartass kind of flourish. “Hi Steve. You look terrible.” And he really does. His hair is matted and sticking up in weird places. He’s in a robe, untied, boxers on full display. Not to mention his eyes are bloodshot and his cheeks are rosy. Steve frowns. He attempts to swing the door shut, but Billy catches it easily, pushing it open enough to let himself inside. He shuts the door behind himself.

“What do you want, Hargrove?” Steve grumbles. He seems frustrated. He doesn’t meet Billy’s eyes. “You look like shit too, by the way. The fuck happened to your face?”

Billy shrugs as he holds out Steve’s homework. “Got in a fight with my dad. He hit me. Nothing new.” There’s no point in pretending with Steve. He was already suspicious of Billy’s dad, from what Billy could tell he said when they were in the principal’s office.

When he says that, Steve’s face falls. He looks sad, then guilty. “Oh… I’m sorry.” Billy shrugs again. Steve turns and trudges to the living room, flipping over the record on the turntable.

Billy follows him, taking this as a chance to look around. The interior of Harrington house is more ostentatious than the outside. The living room ceiling is as high as the second story, vaulted with auburn wooden beams. The décor is subtle yet effective in adding an air of class. Billy looks around the living room. There’s a soft-looking grey leather chair with a wool blanket draped over it. On the minimalist side table next to it stands a bottle of whiskey and a pile of crumpled tissues. Stacks of paper – homework, Billy realizes upon closer inspection – lay on the coffee table, mostly obscured by a large black tv remote. Across the room sits the television in question, and to its right is the turntable cabinet. Steve is leaning against it, unfocused eyes looking Billy over. “Why are you here? How did you even get my address?”

“Nancy gave it to me. I was worried when you stopped coming to school, so I offered to bring you your homework and check on you. Clearly I had reason to be concerned.” Billy gestures to the mostly empty bottle of alcohol.

Steve scoffs, a tired smile on his face. “I’m fine, Billy.”

“Bullshit.”

“I am.”

“You told me friends were people you didn’t have to pretend around. Are you telling me we’re not friends, Harrington?” Billy folds his arms across his chest.

Steve frowns. He looks away. “We’re friends,” he mutters.

“So what’s the matter with you? I might not be good at saying what I’m thinking, but I can try my best to listen to you.” Billy throws himself down into the plush couch and picks up the open pack of Oreos chilling on the coffee table. He pulls one out and twists it open, eating the side with minimal crème first. He works on licking off the crème from the other half while Steve fumbles with his words.

“I don’t know, I guess I- I just- I get sad sometimes? I have these nightmares of- of these things. These monsters. The monsters that came from the lab just outside of town. I saw some scary things there… El- Jane… came from there. There are things going on in this world that are beyond explanation, and they haunt me. And I miss Nancy _so much_. I’ll never have her back but getting over that first heartbreak is just so hard. I loved her. At least I thought I did. Finding out she never loved me just makes me ache.” Steve’s pacing now. His words are slightly slurred as he rants. “There are parts of myself that I just- that I hide because it makes life just a little easier. I feel so hopeless and lonely sometimes… Sometimes I just want to end it. These feelings just well up in my chest and overflow and I can’t think of any other way to stop it. But then I feel like a totally selfish asshole for thinking things like that. My life is so _good_ overall. I have friends, parents who love me, a nice house, and good grades. What else could I possibly ask for? And yet I still feel this way. What right do I have?” It’s rhetorical.

Billy kicks his feet up on the couch, his eyes half watching Steve walk from one end of the room to the other. He’s rubbing his palm over his chin and up his jaw, lost in his own head as he speaks. “I don’t think you have to have a right to feel sad. Poor or not, we all have feelings, and our money doesn’t change that. I feel like you keeping these things locked up in your mind is gonna fuck you up eventually. We all gotta express ourselves. I punch walls when _I’m_ mad,” Billy says nonchalantly. He eats another Oreo.

Steve stares at him for a long time, his masculine features clearly broadcasting the turmoil inside his mind. Eventually, he sighs heavily and moves towards Billy, snatching the pack of Oreos off his chest. He sits down, examining the package. “You eat these like an idiot,” he mutters. Steve removes a cookie from the pack and takes a bite out of it without even opening it.

“You’re a disgusting animal. Do you eat KitKats like that? Do you bite into KitKats instead of breaking them up? Fuck you.” Billy reaches for the Oreos but Steve swats him away.

“People who talk to me like that in my house don’t get Oreos.” Steve eats another cookie.

Billy scoffs. “Whatever. You don’t even have any milk. They’re worthless without it.”

“Who said I didn’t have milk?”

“You’ve been eating these without milk while you have milk in your house? Fucking animal.”

Steve shrugs. “They taste alright with whiskey.”

“Ugh. Gross. I’m leaving.”

Steve laughs. “Fine, good riddance. … Don’t actually go, though. You wanna watch the Breakfast Club? I was thinking of walking to the video store and picking it up. They just got a copy in”

“Ugh, walking.”

“Come on, lazy asshole. It’s a nice day. Let’s do it.”

“Fine, but you’re gonna buy us some microwave popcorn too.”

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's right in the Oreo debate, Billy or Steve?


	5. In the Quiet of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm.

**Billy**

Billy finds himself spending more time with Steve. Like, a _lot_ more time. They hang out after school most days, and typically on the weekends too. They spend a lot of time at Nancy’s house with her and Jonathan. Mrs. Wheeler is very nice to him, all smiles and feathery touches. She bakes them cookies.

Max seems to hate him a little less lately. She’s able to look at him without that typical furrow in her brow. She even smiles at him sometimes. Life is far from perfect, though. Their father is still their father. They still fight like siblings do. Things are just a bit easier when it feels like you have someone on your team for once.

All the kids are cool enough for being kids. The only one that unsettles him is Jane.

-

It’s a Saturday and they’re at Nancy’s place, doing nothing in particular. He drove Max here for a playdate, and Steve and Jonathan were here already so he figured he’d stick around.

Billy steps out for a cigarette at one point, taking in the fresh April air as he does. Flowers are blooming in the little garden patches beneath the full-length windows decorating the front of the Wheeler household.

The front door opens and shuts behind him. The person standing there isn’t who he was expecting to follow him outside.

It’s Jane. She’s staring at him. If it weren’t for the face, he’d say she could pass for a pretty normal kid. She’s got fashionable clothes and ties her hair half up in scrunchies. But that look. Her eyes are dark and there’s an air of intensity that follows her wherever she goes. Like right now. She’s standing there with her arms at her sides, looking at Billy without blinking.

“Hey Jane,” he tries with a slight smile. “What’s up?”

“I see you.” She tilts her head slightly and takes a step closer. She has a way with her minced sentences and few words that tends to unsettle people.

“Um… What?”

“I _see_ you. You hide from them.”

There’s a cold chill inside of Billy’s chest. Her words send a shiver up his spine. He feels like her eyes are piercing into his mind. He says nothing. What _could_ he say?

“You are hiding yourself. Friends care about friends. Steve, Nancy, Jonathan… They are _your_ friends. Don’t hide. They are good. You can be good.” She nods, a definitive bow of her chin.

Billy shifts his weight, taking a pull on his cigarette. He can’t possibly fathom what it is she “sees” specifically. He doesn’t like the feeling of being dissected, of feeling like someone’s poking around places in his mind even _he_ doesn’t dwell in. “Uh. Thank you for the advice?”

Jane nods again. Seemingly satisfied with their conversation, she goes back inside. Billy finishes his cigarette and stomps the butt out before going back inside as well.

He spends the rest of a peaceful afternoon with his friends.

Steve gets up around 5:30, talking about how his mother will be expecting him for dinner soon. He turns to Billy. “My mom wanted to know if you wanted to come over for dinner, by the way. She asked me to ask you earlier. She said Max can come too.”

Before Billy gets the chance to reply, Max is shouting from the other room. “No thanks!”

Billy frowns, looking up at Steve from his place on the couch. “I have to drive Max home… She’ll raise hell if I make her go. Another time, I guess?”

Jonathan pipes in. “I can take her home when Will and I leave. It’s not really out of the way.”

“Oh,” Billy exhales, somewhat surprised at the kindness of the gesture. “Thanks, Jonathan. I appreciate it. I guess it’s fine, then.”

“Great,” Steve beams, and boy if that doesn’t make something squeeze in Billy’s chest. “Let’s go! We’ll see you guys later.”

Nancy and Jonathan say farewell and the boys head out. They drive their own cars since that’s how they arrived.

Steve is standing on the porch when Billy arrives. He looks uncomfortable. “What?”

“My parents are weird.”

“Oh, come on.”

“No, Billy, you don’t understand. You’ve never met them. My mom is an artist.”

“Rad.”

“No!!! Super _weird_!! Please don’t listen to her. She says really crazy things. God, I already regret this.”

Billy smirks. “It’s no big deal, Steve. I’m good with people’s moms. It’s not hard to make them like me.”

Steve groans, throwing his head back like the drama queen he is. “That’s what I’m afraid of. I’m scared she’ll like you too much. Like… she might flirt with you.”

“Rad.” Billy grins.

“Ugh, god. Go home. Dinner’s cancelled.”

“Nope.” Before Steve can protest, Billy rings the doorbell, sealing their fate. Steve looks like he’s about to die. The door swings open and the woman standing there is _beautiful_. She’s one of the most stunning women Billy has ever seen. She’s tall, with fine straw-colored hair cascading over her shoulders and a dazzling smile. Her lips are painted with a deep shade of red that makes the rest of her face look almost ghostly pale.

Billy feels himself staring. Mrs. Harrington beams. She grabs Steve by the shoulders and pulls him to her chest, wrapping him in a tight embrace. He makes a sound like she’s squeezed the air out of him. “Oh, my Stevie!” She squeals in delight. When she releases Steve, she turns to Billy. “You must be the new boy in town! Mrs. Wheeler has told me _so_ much about you. I hear you’re a real gentleman, Billy.” She winks at him.

Billy stares at her, dumbfounded. Steve’s mom is _really hot_. And Stevie???? She calls him _Stevie_????

He regains his composure after a beat, smiling his lopsided grin that he knows chicks dig. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Mrs. Harrington. Thank you for inviting me over for dinner.”

“Of course! And please, God, do _not_ call me Mrs. Harrington. It makes me feel so old! Call me Ingrid.” She steps aside and beckons them inside. Billy looks at Steve, and he’s bright red. He won’t look at Billy.

“I don’t think anyone could possibly mistake you for being old, Ingrid. I’d be surprised if anyone’s ever even called you “ma’am”,” Billy says before stepping over the threshold. Clearly it was the right thing to say, because Ingrid giggles. Steve hunches his shoulders in a cringe and he glares at Billy.

“Shut up, shut up, shut _up_ ,” Steve hisses.

Billy grins. “What’s the matter, _Stevie_? I’m just having a little fun!”

“You’re a fucking goblin. I hate you.”

Billy doesn’t get a chance to respond. Ingrid calls from behind them, “Colin! The boys are here, dear,” drowning out any potential retort Billy may have had.

The Harrington’s house has a totally different vibe when Steve’s parents are in it. There’s sage burning in a dish on top of the turntable cabinet, and bouquets of flowers in elegant vases scattered about the rooms. As Billy takes in the vibrant atmosphere, a man appears on the second-floor landing. He’s dressed in an off-white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, suspenders over his shoulders. His dark hair is slicked back, and his jaw looks like it could cut glass. Fuck. _He’s_ hot too. Billy surmises that this is Steve’s dad, Colin. The man raises his hands, palms upwards, and beams. “Billy! Welcome. Steve’s told us so much about you. Glad you could make it. I’ve prepared a roast for us tonight.” Colin descends the stairs with the utmost grace, and Billy is smitten. He’s surrounded by beautiful people. He wonders if he might be in a dream. Colin approaches him and says, “Do you take your whiskey neat or on the rocks?”

Billy no longer questions whether he’s dreaming. He’s certain. “Um… Straight from the bottle usually, so neat I guess?”

Colin throws his head back and laughs. “Coming right up.”

Billy looks at Steve and grins. “Your parents are cool.”

Steve frowns. “They really aren’t. Come on, let’s go set the table.” Steve walks into the kitchen and Billy follows. The roast is sitting under a tented piece of aluminum foil, and it smells amazing. The boys gather plates, silverware, and drinking glasses and bring them to the dining room.

Billy trails behind Steve, laying out the silverware as Steve lays the plates. He nudges Steve’s shoulder with his own and smiles when Steve glares at him. “Chill, man.”

Steve’s features soften and he manages a small smirk. “Whatever, _man_.” He says _man_ in a way that’s meant to mock Billy, but Billy doesn’t really care. He’s having a good time, surprisingly without being drunk or high. Ingrid comes into the dining room and sets a number of serving dishes, filled with potatoes, vegetables, and gravy, down on the center of table. Colin comes in carrying the roast, a toque perched neatly on his head. It makes Steve groan in exasperation and Billy laughs. Colin exits, then returns with Billy’s drink, and dinner can begin.

“Now everyone, join hands,” Steve’s mom says, making direct eye contact with Billy, who has a fork full of green beans halfway to his mouth. Billy blushes, returning the utensil to his plate before taking Ingrid’s left hand.

Nobody else takes each other’s hands. Billy looks around, bemused.

Steve suppresses a smile. “She’s fucking with you.” He stabs a potato with his fork, far more aggressively than necessary.

Billy looks over at Steve’s mom and she’s grinning from ear to ear. She squeezes Billy’s hand before letting go. “Gotcha,” she titters.

A surprised bark of laughter breaks from Billy’s lips.

He wonders if every normal family is like this.

-

The dinner is amazing. The meat was cooked perfectly, and the potatoes are some of the best he’s ever had. He’s impressed that it was Colin who cooked it, not Ingrid. Steve’s parents ask him a myriad of questions and seem genuinely interested in his answers. His whiskey never runs dry.

Billy learns that he’s seen Ingrid’s artwork before, when he lived in California as a child. His mother took him to LACMA for the day, and several pieces of her art were there on loan from the Art Institute of Chicago as well as her private collection. He recognizes one of the pieces from the exhibit, and it’s hanging in their living room. He’d seen it the last time he came over and it felt familiar, but he couldn’t place exactly how.

His heart aches with the thought of that day, with the thought of his mother. He tries not to show it.

They finish their meal, and Billy feels kind of drunk. He brings the plates to the kitchen and has to steady himself on the island after he sets them in the sink. Ingrid gives him a measuring look. “You’re welcome to stay the night, honey. Are your parents okay with is?”

Billy looks sheepish. “I’ll be fine to drive in an hour, I don’t mean to overstay my welcome.”

Colin is behind him, and he doesn’t notice until his hand in on his shoulder. “Nonsense, son. We’d love to have you. The guest bedroom is a wreck of art materials at the moment, so you can sleep in Steve’s room.”

Billy’s about to protest, but Steve speaks before he can. “Cool. Thanks for dinner, dad. Wanna go play video games, Billy?”

“Um, sure. You have a game console?” Steve leaves the kitchen and Billy follows him. He doesn’t get far before he’s almost knocked off his feet by something sprinting past his ankles. “What the fuck?” He mutters. Looking around, he finally spots the perpetrator as it jumps onto the couch. It looks like a tiny _leopard_. “ _What is that???_ ”

Steve looks over at the wild cat, nonchalant. “Oh, that’s just Suki. She’s my mom’s cat.” The “cat” in question meows loudly.

“That’s a wild animal, Steve.”

“She’s a Bengal cat. They’re a new breed of cat,” Steve says. “My mom thought she was cute. They’re pretty active, so she takes Suki with her whenever she travels. That’s why you’re just now meeting her. She walks on a leash like a dog.”

“Jesus,” Billy exhales. “That’s crazy.” Suki meows again and does a big stretch. Billy admits she’s cute. “Will she bite me if I pet her?”

Steve scoffs. “No. Don’t touch her tummy though. She doesn’t like it.” He stands with his hands in his jean pockets, watching Billy.

Billy approaches the cat and touches her head. She pushes into his palm and purrs. Then she rises up on her hind legs with her front paws on his shoulder and pushes her face against his, nuzzling his cheek. Steve laughs, probably because of the surprised look on Billy’s face.

Billy wraps his arms around the cat and pulls her off the couch, carrying her towards the stairs. “This is my cat now.” Her hind legs kick at him in protest. She gets her feet in between her belly and his chest and pushes off, doing a midair wiggle as she frees herself and runs into the kitchen.

Steve laughs again. “Is that the first girl who’s ever rejected you?”

“Nah.” Billy shrugs. “Come on, show me your game console.”

“Fine, fine. Pushy.” Steve leads Billy upstairs to his room. He turns the tv on and pulls out a console, reaching behind the screen to plug it in. “You ever play with a Colecovision before?”

“Nope.”

“It’s got a bunch of cool games. Let’s play Mario Brothers.”

Billy sits on the edge of Steve’s bed, looking around the room. “What, I don’t get to choose what game we play?”

“Nope. Just trust me, it’s fun.”

“Fine,” Billy groans, attempting to sound like he hates the idea. While he waits for Steve to finish putting everything together, he notices a baseball bat leaning in the corner of the room. It has nails rammed through it and is stained with splashes of dark liquid. “Jesus Christ, Steve, what the fuck is that bat for? Who’d you whack?”

Steve turns to see what he’s looking at, features passive. “Like I’ve said, I’ve seen shit you couldn’t possibly imagine.”

Billy scoffs. “Like what?”

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Steve hesitates a moment, then shakes his head. “Another time.” He hands Billy a controller and sits beside him. “You can be Mario since you’re the guest and I chose the game.”

“Cool.” Billy smiles slightly. “Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?”

“Inviting me over. Your parents are really… nice. it’s nice to get away from my hellhole of a home. Nice to feel normal once in a while. I wish I had your parents.” Billy’s voice is unintentionally forlorn, his words so vulnerable due to the whiskey.

Steve shrugs. “I wish I had my parents, too. They’re always away on trips or doing other things that don’t involve me. I hardly see them…” He purses his lips, keeping his eyes trained on the staticky screen of the television. “They’re fine when they’re around though.”

The boys sit in silence for a period. The tension eases as they get more competitive, focused on beating the game at all costs.

They laugh and play together late into the night, both of them feeling normal for the first time in a long time. Things start to wind down around 2 in the morning. Billy’s sitting on the ledge of Steve’s window, smoking a cigarette. He keeps it out in the cold night air until he takes a pull from it, exhaling the smoke out the window. He sits with a knee to his chest, staring out on the dark expanse of forest behind Steve’s back yard. The full moon casts ominous shadows on the trees. They sway gently in the breeze. A shiver crawls up Billy’s spine, and he’s not so sure it’s from the cold. The forest makes him feel as though he’s being watched by some invisible specter.

“What are you going to do after we graduate?”

Steve looks up at him from his place under the covers. “I don’t know.”

“You could go to college. Get out of Hawkins.”

“So could you.”

Billy scoffs. “Not with my grades.”

“There’s always community college.”

Billy shrugs. “I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Neither do I. I don’t want to think about it.”

“We’re graduating pretty soon.”

“You say that like _you_ have a plan.” Steve frowns.

“I’ll get a job. I was thinking of being a lifeguard at the public pool. I did that when I lived in California.”

“I’ll probably get a job too,” Steve mutters. He pulls the duvet up over his cheek. “Shut the window, it’s fucking cold.”

Billy sticks his tongue out at Steve and leans his head against the glass pane. “Get over it.” He takes a while to finish his cigarette before shutting the window.

Steve’s sleeping in a pair of basketball shorts. Billy doesn’t have any and Steve didn’t give him a pair, citing that they’d be too small anyways. So he takes his clothes off, folds them, and sets them on the dresser. He slips into the bed wearing only his boxers.

Billy blushes at the realization that he’s nearly naked while being very close to Steve. It’s happened before in the showers at school, sure, but this is different. They’re sharing a bed. The thought raises goosebumps on his arms. He stares up at the ceiling, praying he can control his blood flow. Because currently, it’s moving in a direction he does _not_ want it to. Steve flips onto his stomach, face turned in the opposite direction of Steve.

“G’night Steve.”

“G’night Billy.”

Billy lays there for a long time, struggling to fall asleep. He can’t stop thinking about Steve.

-

**Steve**

He can’t fall asleep. His stomach feels unsettled and the hairs on the back of his neck are on end. He isn’t sure if it’s because Billy fucking Hargrove is asleep next to him, snoring softly, or if it’s something else. Steve gets up and closes the curtains over the windows. He turns and looks back at Billy, a lump of shadows fast asleep under the covers, a sliver of moonlight casts over the man’s hair, locks glowing in the faint light. An uncomfortable feeling squeezes at Steve, different than the one before.

He suppresses the idea of nights like this happening more often.

It’s safe to say Steve likes Billy more than he ever expected to.

Billy shifts under the covers, and his head lifts slightly. “What’s goin’ on?” He slurs.

“Nothing,” Steve says gently. “Go back to sleep, Billy. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Mmkay,” the man sighs, his head returning to the pillow. His breathing levels off soon after.

Steve stands and watches him for a while, calmed by the sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to ramp up from here. Please enjoy, and let me know what you think!


	6. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the piece of the puzzle Steve had no idea was missing.

**Steve**

The end of senior year is too close. In just two months they’ll be adults out in the world, forced to _do life_. The thought makes Steve uncomfortable. He still hasn’t found a job yet. However, the mall they’ve been building nearby is almost completed, and there’s a list of the shops that’ll be there circulating in the papers, looking for employees. He should probably apply there. There’s plenty of places to reject him in that sprawling complex. Only one place needs to accept him.

Steve doesn’t want to think about that right now. He wants to stay a kid for just a while longer.

He throws a tater tot at Billy’s forehead and it’s a direct hit. The potato leaves a little oily circle on the man’s skin and he glares at Steve. Billy swipes his hand over his forehead and takes his headphones off, hanging them around his neck. “What the fuck, dude?”

“Pay attention to me.”

“No.” He puts his headphones back on, shutting his eyes and leaning his head against the tree he’s slumped under again. His foot taps a rhythm in the air. Steve glowers at him until Billy opens one eye, raising an eyebrow. He takes his headphones off again. “What do you want?”

“Lots of things.”

“From _me_ , jackass.” Billy smirks a little.

“I finished my book. Pay attention to me. There’s only ten minutes of lunch left, and I’m bored.”

“You realize I was ignoring you because you were ignoring me first, right? By reading your book?”

“Yeah, but now I’m done.”

“Great. You want me to juggle some rocks now to entertain you or something?”

“Sure.”

“Come on.”

Steve whines, kicking a lump of grass at his feet. Before he can say something, a familiar voice pipes up.

“What’re you two queers doin’ over here by yourselves?” Steve looks up to see Carol and Tommy approaching, a hyena’s grin on the girl’s face. “You two fuckin’?”

“Shut up, asshole. Don’t say shit like that.” Billy glares at him, arms folded across his chest.

Tommy laughs at his reaction. “Whatever. Listen, I’m having a graduation party. You’re both invited, and I can guarantee you three things. Booze, babes, and blunts. Be there.”

Steve blinks. “I’m invited?” Miraculously, his voice doesn’t give away how pitifully hopeful the sentiment made him feel.

“Sure. You’re cool, Harrington. You can hang. My house, next Saturday.” He points two fingers at his eyes, then at Steve and Billy. He repeats the motion several times before turning and leaving. Carol follows, arms wrapped around his bicep.

“You gonna go?” Steve asks Billy.

“Definitely. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

Billy nods his approval. “Never seen you drunk before, Steve. That should be fun.”

“Yeah. I used to be the keg-stand king before you came around.”

Billy smirks. “King Steve, huh? Let’s see if you can take your title back.”

“Oh, I will.”

-

It’s been a while since Steve has gone to a party. If he’s honest, he’s a little nervous. His M.O. for almost the last year has been “mom to a bunch of pre-teens”. But now, he gets to do a little something for himself. For a night he gets to say, “who gives a fuck” and let loose. It’s a breath of fresh air from the constant stress about what the future will hold.

Overall, he feels good. He _looks_ good. His hair is styled perfectly (of course), and he’s wearing a grey long-sleeved shirt under his black leather jacket. He checks his watch. It’s a little after 9:30. As good a time as any to head over.

He decides to walk because Tommy doesn’t live that far. Oh, and he doesn’t want to leave his car when he inevitably ends up drunk.

Steve slips out the front door and locks it behind himself. He turns his collar up against the night breeze and shoves his hands into his pocket, walking up the street towards Tommy’s place. The moon is bright, and his eyes adjust quickly to the relative darkness.

The monotonous sound of his boots clunking on the concrete is disrupted by the faint sound of music in the distance. The number of cars parked on the street is increasing rapidly as well. A rush of adrenaline tickles in his chest from anticipation.

He slips around Tommy’s house into the back yard to find the party. There’s a fire in the firepit and several teenagers standing around with beers in hand. Another kid is taking a rip from a bong. Steve inhales, a slight smile creeping across his lips. How could he forget about _this_? The sound of Prince’s latest hit reverberates through the air and it’s – literally – music to his ears. Steve heads inside the house through the open screen door for the kitchen. He finds exactly what he was looking for. The kitchen bar is covered in booze. Bottles of liquor, half-drank already, as well as cans of beer and a punch bowl completely obscure the counter below. He pulls a red plastic cup off of the tower of them, filling it with punch. He downs the syrupy red liquid quickly, taking a sharp inhale from the familiar burn of it. A few people stand around him, doing the same. They greet him with hazy smiles, and some even remember his name. He chats idly while he drinks another serving, this time a little slower.

He wanders back outside eventually and stands on the porch, surveying the scene. There are two girls sitting on the outdoor couch, Tommy’s sleepy-looking yellow lab laying between them. They pet him incessantly, cooing over how cute he is.

A couple beside Steve stand, smoking cigarettes and muttering quietly about god knows what. He asks to bum a cigarette from them, and they graciously oblige. He takes a deep drag from his proffered cigarette, relishing the familiar burn in his lungs. He takes a gulp of his punch before exhaling.

Steve can’t help but wonder where Billy is. He doesn’t doubt that the other man will be there, it’s just a matter of when. He could already be there, just in another room, Steve supposes.

He doesn’t dwell on it too long. Tommy comes up to him and starts chatting him up, and soon they’re laughing and joking like old times. Tommy even suggests Steve be the first one of the night to do a keg stand. “It’ll really get the party going,” Tommy encourages.

Who is Steve to deny him? “No doubt,” Steve agrees. “Let’s do it. You got my legs?”

“Yeah.”

Steve walks down the porch to the keg in question. He puts both hands on the rim and waits for Tommy to grab his ankles. The process of getting ready to do a keg stand has caught the interest of some partygoers and a crowd begins to form around them. With practiced ease they get Steve in a handstand over the keg, and he wrangles the tap into his mouth. There’s someone standing beside him who begins to pump the keg and he drinks as fast as he can. He loses track of how long he’s up there for. Keg stands are almost second nature to him by this point, and it feels right. The whooping and hollering of rowdy, drunk teenagers almost completely drowns out the the music coming from the nearby speakers. Steve smacks his left hand against the cold metal of the keg when he’s ready to be let down, and Tommy holds him up for about another three seconds before he lowers him back to the grass. Steve stands up and throws his hands in the air, shouting victoriously. The crowd cheers in response.

Somewhere a voice shouts, “Yeah, King Steeeeeve!” and he grins. He looks around, remembering his conversation with Billy, wishing he was there to witness the reclamation of his title. Then, his eyes fall on a familiar figure. A familiar, shirtless, figure with a black leather jacket and a golden mullet. Lo and behold, there stands Billy, a few feet away. He smirks at Steve, winking when their eyes meet. The man pushes his way through the swaying mass of teens and offers Steve his hand. They give each other a “homie handshake”, and Billy follows it up with a strong smack to Steve’s back. “Nice one, man,” Billy says. “You were up for a while. Bet I could stay up longer.” And with that, his smirk is back.

“I’d like to see you try.”

No one’s really keeping track when Billy goes for his turn. Tommy and Steve spot his legs. He watches, bleary-eyed with the haze of alcohol, as Billy downs beer like it’s air. Steve starts chanting, “Chug, chug, chugh!!!” and the others join in. Steve shakes Billy’s legs back and forth to disrupt his concentration, cackling when Billy knocks him in the side of the head with his knee.

When Billy comes down for air, he’s bright-eyed and grinning. He smacks his hands to his chest and shoves Steve, whooping loudly. Nearby partiers respond with cheers of their own. Steve stumbles back with the force of Billy’s push, but he grabs Billy’s elbow before he goes down. And then they’re grappling, trying to push one another over. It feels light-hearted and fun, unlike the times in the past when Billy’s had his hands on Steve. He much prefers this.

-

The party is fun. _Really_ fun. He has to admit it to himself, he kind of missed this. He missed drinking for reasons other than sleeplessness. Being drunk around all these other people has Steve feeling a sort of exhilaration he had almost forgotten. Letting loose never felt so good.

He stumbles into the kitchen for another drink, almost dropping his cigarette on the linoleum when he fills his cup. He has to take a moment to steady himself against the counter, staring blankly ahead of himself. It’s rather dark in the kitchen, since everyone’s outside. Steve slouches over to the walk-in pantry, slipping inside to find snacks. Someone had ordered pizza about an hour ago, which was devoured quickly. The bong rips he took have him hungry still, though.

He finds what he’s looking for: the snack stash. There’s a couple bags of chips and stacks of boxes of cookies, waiting to be eaten. They’re practically calling his name. Thank god. He is _so_ hungry.

Steve has a mouth full of Doritos when he hears someone behind him. He looks back to see Billy’s broad form filling the doorway.

“’s goin’ on? Why’re you in the pantry, man?”

“Snacks,” Steve says around the mouthful of chips. He offers Billy an Oreo, which the other man takes graciously.

Billy shuts the pantry door behind himself. “We can’t let anyone else know there’s snacks in here. The door being open might make them wonder.”

Steve nods, tapping his temple. “Smart.” He stops stuffing his mouth long enough to take a deep swig of punch. Steve stands there, watching Billy eat Oreos. It takes him a while to notice.

“What? I got summin on my face?” He slurs, swiping a hand over his cheek.

“Nah.” Steve stands there, just looking. Billy looks back, right eyebrow arched just so. Steve’s eyes fall without much thought to take in Billy’s bare chest, glistening with a light sheen of sweat in the dim light of the pantry. When Billy sucks in a breath, Steve watches as his chest raises with the motion. He can feel a slight blush rise high in his cheeks. Steve looks back up at Billy’s face, and he’s closer than he was a minute ago. Probably because Steve can’t stand without swaying. He reaches up to Billy’s face, pushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. It’s an intimate motion, one Steve wouldn’t have done if he was sober. But it was just out of place, okay? Who would he be to leave Billy looking unkempt? He knows how important it is to keep your hair looking good.

His hand lingers by Billy’s cheek. The two of them are looking at each other, seemingly mesmerized.

It seems to happen all at once. One second, they’re staring at each other, the next second Billy’s reaching up to grab Steve’s wrist and his other shoulder. His hands feel like fire through Steve’s clothes, setting every nerve ablaze. And they’re kissing. Billy’s the one who initiated it, pressing his lips forcefully to Steve’s. He stands paralyzed for a moment, baffled. Then he’s kissing back, free hand making its way to Billy’s waist. He recoils at the cold feel of Steve’s fingertips on his bare skin, but eventually Steve settles his hand on top of Billy’s perfectly tanned hip.

This is the piece of the puzzle he didn’t realize he was missing. His mind feels fuzzy and unclear from the booze and weed, but this feels right.

Billy pushes Steve against the shelves of the pantry, pressing their chests together. Steve deepens the kiss, running his tongue over Billy’s plush lower lip.

A soft sound escapes Billy’s lips, and he grinds against Steve’s hip. He seems to come back to himself then. Billy pulls away. His eyes are wide, filled with a mix of emotions Steve can’t begin to comprehend. Billy pulls his hands away like he’s just touched a hot stove.

“Fuck,” He whispers. “Oh fuck, Steve. Oh Jesus, I- I-,” he stutters, failing to finish his sentence. Billy turns and throws the door to the pantry open, bolting through the doorway. Steve sucks in a breath, taking a moment to attempt to process what the _fuck_ just happened.

Billy is nowhere to be found when Steve finds the courage to rejoin the party.

Steve leaves shortly after.

He barely remembers the walk home. It happens in a flash, and the next thing he knows is he’s in his bathroom, shower running. He stands with his hands on the counter, staring at himself in the mirror. His face is red, hair sticking every which way. He’s confused, and worried, and his stomach _hurts_. He’s too drunk to make heads or tails of this, and it’s pissing him off.

What happened? What did they _do_?

The questions swirl in his muddled brain.

Steve strips his clothing off and drops it on the floor, stepping under the hot water of the shower.

Despite his drunkenness, he can remember the moment so clearly. The memory of Billy’s lips on his makes him hard and Steve groans, frustrated. He strokes himself to the memory of the sound Billy made, of him grinding against Steve. He comes with a muffled sigh quicker than he would like to admit.

He’s fucked.


	7. Ahoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Sorry it took so long to update this. A lot of craziness happened at once and I had to get my life figured out before working on this again. Thanks for your patience! I hope you enjoy. We're getting into Stranger Things Season 3 territory. Since I know you all watched season 3, I'm not planning to go over every single event that happened. Just more of the stuff that pertains to this relationship between Billy and Steve.
> 
> A quick disclaimer: don't drive drunk. Don't do anything these boys do. They are bad examples. They are individuals with an inability to effectively communicate and to make good decisions. But that's what makes for a fun story. Enjoy!

**Billy**

He drove home drunk.

He hadn’t intended to. The plan was to crash on Tommy’s couch.

But when _it_ happened, he had to leave.

Now, Billy sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the poster-clad wall in front of him. He feels like his brain is about to explode. His eyes shift down to his hands, laying limp across his lap. He turns his hands over and sees a pale sheen of sweat on his palms. He feels like he might be sick.

He’s ruined _everything_.

The closest friend he’s ever had, and he goes and throws himself at him like an idiot.

He should never have let himself get so close at that party. Not alone. A drunk man’s actions are a sober man’s worst nightmare. Up until that point, it had all felt so _right_. Now he feels like his brain is practically drowning in all the alcohol. He can’t think straight. He has no idea what to do.

Billy removes all his clothes, tossing them in the general direction of his laundry hamper. He falls into his bed and pulls the quilt up to his chin. He tries to sleep. A million years seem to pass inside his dark bedroom before his eyes finally slide closed.

-

**Steve**

Billy has stopped sitting with them at lunch. When Nancy asks Steve why on the second day, Steve shrugs. He can’t tell her. Won’t tell her. The words stick in his throat, their idea so far-fetched and seemingly impossible that if he said them there was no way to know how she or Jonathan would react.

Even _he_ still can’t comprehend what happened. The words _Billy Hargrove kissed you at Tommy’s graduation party_ definitely form a grammatically correct sentence, yet it seems totally unreal and devoid of meaning. The sentence stays tucked firmly in the back of his head. Steve guesses that’s where Billy’s put his memories of it too.

Listen. It’s not that he didn’t like it. That’s the problem. He _liked_ the feeling of Billy’s lips on his. Of that square jawline beneath his fingertips, a hint of stubble dragging roughly against his chin and lips. A shiver raises the hairs on Steve’s skin when he thinks of the feeling of Billy’s hips pressing forcefully against his own. He blushes in shame at his reaction.

Nancy gives him a quizzical look. He blames the redness of his face on the heat of the late-spring sun.

He wants to talk to Billy, to make things go back to normal. It’s clear to himself, however, that Billy regrets what happened. Billy isn’t good with his words. Steve is worried that if he brought it up Billy might get punchy, and Steve can’t risk his face this close to graduation.

So he leaves it alone.

He has other things to worry about. Like getting a job. And taking finals. He’s not going to let this distract him from his last little bit of time being an irresponsible 18-year-old. If Billy wants to straighten this out, he’ll have to come to Steve.

-

**Billy**

He goes back to hanging out with Tommy and Carol. It’s easier. Billy won’t be forced to confront certain truths about himself this way.

His plan works almost perfectly for about two weeks. But then Max butts in.

“Why’d you stop hanging out with Steve?”

The question blindsides him. He’s driving her home from the Wheeler’s house. Steve was there. He saw the beemer. So of course he didn’t go inside, opting instead to honk a few times to alert Max of his presence.

“Mind your own business,” he grumbles, glowering at the road.

Max huffs. “Come on, Billy.”

Billy says nothing, frown deepening.

“He misses hanging out with you.”

He side-eyes his sister, silent.

“Man, what’s wrong with you? Any time you have any kind of friend you go and fuck it up.”

“Max! Don’t say fuck!”

“You just said it, asshole!”

“ _Max_!”

His sister glares at him, arms folded over her chest, sunk down in the passenger seat of his car.

That’s where they leave it. The rest of the drive is spent in simmering silence.

-

**Steve**

He sees Billy at graduation. A tender ache in his chest that he’s become used to throbs at the sight. Billy Hargrove wearing a black cap and gown, the cap tilted at a jaunty angle on his head, accenting his golden waves so perfectly. Billy arches an eyebrow when they make eye contact. Max is there too, and she beams at Steve. She waves excitedly and attempts to pull Billy by his arm in Steve’s direction, but he resists, yanking his arm away with a frown. He glances one last time at Steve before turning his attention away.

Steve frowns slightly, a slight blush tinting his cheeks. Max walks over to him and hugs him tightly. She greets Steve’s parents and Dustin cordially. “Congratulations!” She says.

Steve smiles and traps the girl in a head lock, rubbing his knuckles against the top of her head in an aggressive noogy. “You’re next, squirt! Not much longer until we’re congratulating _you_ on graduating.”

Max scoffs and punches him in the side to free herself. “As if. I’m not old like you. I have _years_ left.”

With a smirk, Steve shrugs his shoulders. “Whatever you say, Max. It goes by fast.” He slips his hands into the pockets of his suit, looking out over the crowd of his fellow graduates. It’s his last day being forced to be here, and it feels bittersweet. He has many fond memories here, and some more painful. It feels like just yesterday when he was here for freshman orientation. Now he’s done. He starts his job in two weeks. It’s a gig at this place at the new Starcourt Mall called Scoops Ahoy. Pays alright for a first job.

They stand silently for a while. Max looks over at her brother. “He was actually kind of cool when the two of you were hanging out. Now he’s back to being a huge asshole.” She frowns.

Steve looks at her. He doesn’t know what to say.

“What happened anyways?”

He purses his lips. “I don’t really want to talk about it, Max. It was confusing and weird. He doesn’t want to talk about it or even try to get past it, so that’s that I guess.” As much as he wishes that he and Billy were still friends, he doesn’t think it’s possible anymore. He’s scared of how Billy would react if he tried to fix this. If he told Max, and she somehow couldn’t keep her mouth shut… Well, it wouldn’t be good for anyone. Steve doesn’t see a path to resolution. It makes his gut twist unhappily.

He _misses_ Billy.

Max gives him one last scrutinizing look. “Okay, Steve. Have a good day. I’ll see you later.” She goes back to stand with Billy, Neil, and her mother. Billy glances at Steve over his shoulder. Steve manages a smile and he waves. Billy frowns ever so slightly and snaps his eyes away. He turns his attention to a girl who approaches him – one of their classmate’s younger sisters – and puts on that sleazy little smirk he’s seen Billy turn on a hundred girls.

The action quashes any hope that maybe the kiss wasn’t an accident.

-

The next two weeks are lonely and boring. There’s not much to do. Nancy’s busy with Jonathan. The kids are out riding bikes and doing what kids do. Steve’s at home, doing nothing. He watches movies and lays on the couch, frustrated by his lack of entertainment.

When he starts working, however, he wishes he was back on that couch dying of boredom. It’s _busy_. The mall, being so new, has attracted people from all the small towns looking for something to do. Many of them want ice cream! Which means while he’s being trained there is a constant line of impatient people and screaming babies and rambunctious children bouncing off the walls. It makes Steve _tired_.

At the end of his first shift, he drifts home in a haze.

In the period of about a week, he’s taught how to close the store as well as to open, and when he works his first shift as a full-fledged employee, he still feels overwhelmed.

His coworker Robin hates him.

She’s really pretty, which makes the fact that she can’t stand him pretty lame. He had tried to hit on her, which only led to her scoffing at him and ignoring him the rest of the day. Dustin comes in frequently and attempts to haggle a free scoop of ice cream out of Steve any chance he gets.

He tries it once with Robin and she almost gives in. She’s completely taken with him. When she finds out he and Steve are friends, it seems to soften her attitude towards him a little. Their relationship isn’t as negative as it was at first. They can stand to be around each other now. They even tease one another sometimes.

Having someone on your side makes coming to work every day easier.

They have other coworkers, but his shifts overlap most with Robin. They work together almost every time he’s on the schedule. She’s funny and good at dealing with kids – Steve absolutely is not good with little kids – so it’s not a bad setup at all.

It’s been a slow day when Max comes in. Steve’s on his lunch, kicking back in one of the booths with his headphones on and his Walkman on the table beside a cup of iced coffee from the shop two stores down. He looks up from his book when he notices movement at the cash register, and a familiar glint of dirty-blonde hair. The broad shoulders beneath the denim jacket of the man standing beside a petite, red-headed tomboy only affirm who it is he’s looking at. His heart skips a beat. He hasn’t seen Billy in weeks. Robin serves them, completely oblivious to the mild panic attack Steve is about to suffer a few feet away. He looks back at his book, pretending to be reading. In reality, he can’t even tell if the words he’s staring at are English anymore. His hands feel sweaty and his face is hot.

The worst possible thing that could happen happens. Max sees him. He knows she sees him because she’s standing beside him, pulling his headphones off his head. “Steve! Hey!”

Steve looks up at Max and tries to pretend like he hadn’t seen them. “Hey Max! What’re you doing here? Long time no see.”

“Dustin told me you worked here.” She smirks, and Steve knows all too well what that look means. She’s meddling in things she shouldn’t be.

Steve looks past her to see Billy standing by the register still. He’s got a beautiful, caramel tan, probably from being outside this summer. Despite his tan, he looks almost pale. His hand is gripping his cup of ice cream so tightly it’s deformed somewhat in his grasp.

Robin is watching the altercation, and she’s got a devious, knowing look in her eyes. A grin creeps slowly across her lips as she looks between Billy and Steve, their discomfort palpable. She grabs a rag and emerges from behind the counter to wipe down the table next to Steve’s booth, probably to be able to hear better. Steve can see her smirking behind her loose locks of brown hair.

It only serves to make him more nervous. Max looks at her brother. “Billy,” She whines. “Get over here! Let’s hang out with Steve before we go.”

Steve can see Billy’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. The man looks around, presumably to see if he can escape this situation. Seeing no casual way to disengage, he approaches reluctantly and slides into the booth. He’s sitting to Steve’s left, and Max sits to the left of Billy, blocking him into the booth. She sets her bowl of ice cream on the table and looks at the both of them. Steve puts his bookmark into the page he’s on and sets it down.

He picks up his coffee and sips it, taking a moment to collect himself. He looks at Billy. Billy doesn’t look up. “Hey, Billy.”

“Hey Steve.”

“What’s new?”

“Not much.”

“Not much? You look really tan.”

Billy’s eyes furrow. “I’m a lifeguard at the local pool.”

Steve smiles ever so slightly. He can see he’s agitating the other man, and it makes him want to laugh. The fact that he’s not the only one deeply uncomfortable makes him relax a little. “That’s cool.”

They all sit in a strange silence, Robin off to the side pretending to be busy. Then, Max stands. “I need to go to the bathroom,” she supplies before disappearing. Now it’s just the three of them.

Steve doesn’t look up at Robin when he addresses her. “I think you left something on the stove in the back, Robin. I smell something burning.”

“We don’t have a stove-,” she tries to argue.

“ _Robin_ ,” Steve grits out. He can tell she wants to stay and listen, but he doesn’t want her to. She sighs loudly before disappearing behind the counter and into the back room. He can see her peeking out through the window in the wall to the back, but he doesn’t think she’ll be able to hear from that distance.

“Wanna talk about it?” Steve asks.

“No.”

“Come on. You know that’s why Max brought you here. She’s too obvious. She’s standing around the corner to the bathrooms, Billy. You can see her looking over here.” Billy looks up, and when he finds Max with his eyes she ducks back behind the corner. “She’s not going to leave you alone until we at least talk about this.”

Billy glares into his ice cream, mouth shut tightly. He inhales through his nose before grunting out a short sentence. “’m not a queer.”

“Neither am I,” Steve reassures. “I don’t know what I am.”

Billy looks at Steve from beneath his lashes, confused by his dubious answer. “If you’re not gay, you’re straight, idiot.”

“Nah, that’s not true, and you know it. You would’ve just said ‘I’m straight’ rather than specifying that you aren’t gay if you thought that was true.” The pair level equally stubborn looks at one another. “Why’d you kiss me?” Asking the question makes his mouth feel fuzzy. His heart skips a beat.

“I was drunk.”

“Do you regret it?”

Billy says nothing. He looks away.

Steve inhales deeply. “I don’t regret it.” A weight feels as though it’s been lifted off his chest. “I really like you, Billy. I never thought I would say that. You were such an asshole when you first move here. And under that hard, asshole coating, is a pretty cool filling.”

Billy laughs, surprised. “That sounded really stupid.” He makes hesitant eye contact with Steve, a small smile on his lips. The tension is all but gone between them, a familiar feeling of comfort replacing it.

“I mean it. I want to be friends with you again, Billy. If that means pretending the kiss never happened, that’s alright. I can get over it.” Steve runs his fingers over the cover of the book on the table, looking for something to do with his hands.

Billy looks contemplative for a moment. “Yeah… That’d be cool. Let’s be friends again.”

“Yeah?”

Billy nods. “Yeah.” He stirs his slightly melted ice cream, quiet for a moment. “We don’t have to pretend it didn’t happen. If- if you want, I mean. Uh.” Billy’s face is a bright red, brow furrowed deeply.

“Yeah?”

Billy nods again, this time standing up. “Yeah.” He looks over to where Max is. “Max. Let’s go.” He turns his attention back to Steve. “I’ll call you?”

“That’d be cool.”

Billy smiles. Max trots over to the table and picks up her ice cream. She says bye to Steve and the pair leave.

Steve stares into space for a moment. He looks up to see Robin standing at his table. Her arms are folded across her chest and she smirks at him. “He’s into you.”

Steve blushes, totally surprised by how casually she says this. “Shut up. That’s rude.”

“It’s the truth. Come on, your lunch is over. We can talk about what’s up with you two while you do dishes.”

“Whatever.” Steve smiles, rolling his eyes. He picks up his items and follows Robin into the back of the store.

The rest of his shift goes by in a haze of unshakable happiness.


	8. Romeo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised, trigger warning for homosexual slurs and violent homophobia from Billy's dad in this chapter

**Steve**

Steve isn’t one to use the word “ethereal” often. Hell, he never uses it.

But right now, he’s sitting in the accent chair in the corner of his room, a lit cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. He’s looking at Billy who’s sprawled out on his bed, the duvet rumpled around him, golden evening sunlight making his locks glitter like metallic thread. The man lays on his stomach, shirtless, propped on his elbows as he reads a worn paperback. His features are smooth, unbothered by thoughts of real life.

Right now, Billy looks positively ethereal.

Steve takes a drag from his cigarette, blowing his exhale out the window. A heavy summer breeze pushes the smoke right back inside. His eyes linger on Billy’s form, mapping every sharp detail. He shifts, moving his ankle to cross his knee as he relaxes further into the chair.

Billy notices his movement and looks up to see Steve still staring at him. “What?”

Steve shrugs. “Nothin’.”

Billy frowns. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Whatever you’re callin’ “nothin’”, punk.”

“Don’t be like that. I’m just looking at you.” Steve smiles slightly.

Billy pouts. It makes Steve grin. Billy Hargrove, pouting. “Well don’t.”

“Why can everyone at the pool ogle you all day but I can’t?”

“’Cause you aren’t payin’ to look, Harrington.” Billy tilts his head down to push a lock of hair away from his forehead without having to lift his arms off the bed. He presses his palm flat to the brown pages of his book, smoothing it out as if to return his attention to it.

Steve stubs out his cigarette in his ashtray – a white ceramic dish with “San Francisco” written in black letters along the curve of the edge- and stands. He stretches his arms over his head and feels several parts of his body crack. He exhales slowly and lowers his arms before approaching the bed. Billy is trying very hard to ignore him. By the furrow of his brow, Steve can see his efforts are in vain.

“Go away,” Billy mutters.

“Nah.” Steve reaches out and sticks the tip of pinky in Billy’s ear and the man flinches away, batting at Steve’s hand.

“Hey! Fuck you.” Billy grumbles, glowering petulantly.

Steve smirks. “You just did.” And then he’s falling to the bed, Billy having pulled him down with firm hands around his waist. The pair wrestle on the bed, battling furiously to end up on top. Two minutes of this and the boys are both panting, neither one winning. They eventually give up, Steve laughing a breathless chuckle as he lays on his back next to Billy.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Billy turn his head to face him. Steve meets his eyes. “We didn’t fuck, by the way.”

“Debatable.”

“I didn’t put my dick in your ass.”

“Yeah, but I still made you come. I don’t really want a dick in my ass, Hargrove.”

“I’m not complaining. We just technically didn’t fuck. I don’t want a dick in my ass either, by the way.”

Steve laughs. “That’s fine. I like what we do.”

“Me too.” Billy smiles and it’s all dimples and white teeth. It’s the kind of smile Steve would never have expected to get from Billy: real, open, trusting. They sit in silence for a while, taking in each other’s features. Then, Billy says “You know, we’re dating because of Jane and Max.”

Steve laughs, head tilted back with the feeling of it. “I can see Max being a reason, but why Jane?”

“She cornered me at Nancy’s house one time and said some weird shit.”

“Jane always says weird shit.”

“Yeah but she was all like “I see you” ‘n shit and it was weird. She told me to be real with you guys, and that you wouldn’t judge me if I was.”

“Real how?”

“Like about being into guys is how I took it. I don’t really have much else to hide. She’s why I had the guts to even suffer through that awkward conversation about our first kiss. I thought of what she said and figured you weren’t trying to out me just to harass me or tell my dad. Plus, you’re friends with Robin.”

Steve arches an eyebrow, bemused. “What does Robin have to do with this?”

“She’s gay, dude.” Billy says this like it’s no big deal. “I’m only telling you because you’d be a hypocritical fucking asshole to give her a hard time for knowing.”

Steve’s eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot towards his hairline. “What?! I had no idea. How did _you_ know?”

Billy shrugs, moving his hands behind his head. “We’re friends. People like us gravitate to each other subconsciously, I guess. Case in point with you finding her to be the only tolerable coworker you have.”

“Huh. Wow. You have a point,” Steve hums. “She doesn’t like guys at all?”

“Nah, she digs chicks exclusively. I don’t blame her.” Billy smirks at the ceiling. It earns him a jab to his ribs with Steve’s elbow.

“Whatever.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Wait, did you say we’re dating?”

“Yeah. Aren’t we?”

“We’ve never been on a date.”

Billy snickers. “You want me to take you out and court you like a chick, Steve? I don’t even do that for _girls_.”

“Nah. You were just giving me a hard time about semantics a second ago, so I figured I’d return the favor.” Steve grins. “We could go out some time, though. There’s a good pizza stop at the mall. Maybe we could catch a movie too.”

Billy’s quiet for a moment, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I’d like that.”

-

It’s crowded in the cafeteria. Teens and tweens sit in clusters around the various tables, feeding off the energy of being surrounded by their peers on summer break at a place of entertainment. Steve and Billy take their pizza and sit at a table in the vicinity of the Orange Julius.

“Damn,” Billy moans around his first bite. “God damn. That is good fucking pizza.”

“Right? You wouldn’t expect it from mall pizza, right?” Steve smirks, watching as Billy inhales a slice of pepperoni.

“Dude, _yeah_ , fuck. I need more.”

Steve laughs. “I told you two slices wouldn’t be enough for you.” Steve digs into his own plate.

Billy shakes his head. “I honestly thought this pizza was going to be shit. I was prepared to just eat popcorn for most of my dinner.”

Snickering around a mouthful of food, Steve reaches his foot out to nudge Billy’s. He offers a smug smile. “That’ll teach you not to doubt me.”

The two eat pizza and people watch for a while. They chat about nothing and everything, a pleasant atmosphere surrounding them. There’s a certain aspect of anonymity offered to them at the Stargate Mall, considering the fact that people from all the nearby small towns come here to shop, have fun, and eat. Being somewhere where not everyone knows them immediately makes Steve feel good. Here, they’re not Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington, they’re just some guys. They’re a couple of friends eating pizza and catching a movie, just like the dozens of other teens around them.

Steve also speculates that they’re not the only pair of guys (or even girls) in this cafeteria on a date. He can see a couple people he would say are more… obvious than he and Billy. Two girls sit at a table by a rectangular planter, fingers laced nonchalantly on the table, sharing a drink from Orange Julius.

Steve looks back at Billy who’s reclined back in the hard cafeteria chairs, looking around. He’s clad in a grey cotton t-shirt and a pair of jeans tucked into brown leather boots that match his belt. The shirt fits loose around his middle but just a bit too tight in his chest and biceps. He has his typical Mother Mary necklace around his neck and a single earring in his left ear.

“You should’ve pierced your right ear,” Steve supplies.

Billy side-eyes him, fingers absently pulling on his right earlobe. “I’m not looking for my dad to kill me. Plus, I didn’t even like guys when I got the left one done. Figured the left ear was accurate.”

“I’m sure you did; you just didn’t know it yet.”

Billy shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

“What made you realize you liked guys anyways?”

“When I was 16, I got a boner watching my friends change after a day of us surfing. There were guys and girls, everyone was naked. The part that made me realize it was that I couldn’t tell if the boner was because of the girls or the guys. Looking back, it was both. What about you?”

Steve shrugs. “I guess I never had a really specific moment. My mom dated girls as well as guys before she married my dad, and she was always open about it. She tried to make sure I knew I wouldn’t be judged if I did the same. I never thought it was particularly out of the ordinary to have such a big crush on Marlon Brando in Streetcar Named Desire. Not until I perceived the concept of most people being straight. I guess I’ve always just _known_ I was a bit… squiggly with sex. I like all kinds. Just knew not to talk about it with others.”

“Maybe it runs in your genes.” Billy smiles.

Steve chuckles. “Yeah, maybe it does. Let’s head to the theater. We should get snacks before we go in.”

“Let’s do it.” Billy nods and stands, picking up their greasy paper plates to throw them away.

The pair walk side by side to the theater, purchase their tickets for some flick called The Goonies, get their snacks, and settle down in the velvety red seats of the theater. They sit in the far back row, as distanced as they can be from the throngs of people attending the movie.

It’d been out for a couple weeks and looked like the only good movie, the pair had decided.

“I wish Back to the Future would come out already,” Billy laments as they wait for the movie to start. “It looks fun.”

“C’mon, you can wait a week to see it. Plus, I bet this’ll be good too.”

“It better be.” He grabs a handful of popcorn and shoves it in his mouth.

They stop talking as the lights finally dim and the movie begins.

Steve has to admit it’s a pretty good movie. A little weird, but funny. At some point, Billy’s hand moves from the arm rest and settles on Steve’s left knee. It remains there until the credits roll. The warmth emanating from Billy’s palm makes him think of all the other places he’s felt that warmth and it causes an uncomfortable tightness in his pants.

He attempts to quell his totally inappropriate boner, focusing on the kid’s film.

-

The movie gets out late, so the mall is relatively empty when they leave. They walk to Billy’s car – he insisted he drive, citing that his car was cooler- and Billy jumps ahead of Steve at the last moment, opening the door for him. Steve looks at him and smirks. “Fuck you,” he says, shaking his head as he settles into the passenger’s seat.

The drive home is uneventful. They discuss the movie, what they enjoyed what they didn’t. It’s comfortable. Steve shuts his eyes and hums along to the song on the radio, enjoying the feel of the beat in his chest. When he opens his eyes again, he sees Billy staring, a small quirk to the corner of his mouth. Steve grins in return. He transitions to full-on singing now, sometimes botching the lyrics because he doesn’t know the song that well. Billy doesn’t seem to mind. It even earns Steve the occasional chuckle.

Steve gives it a rest when they pull up in front of his house. Billy pulls up to the sidewalk and parks the car, turning to rest his hand on the back of Steve’s seat, the other on the steering wheel. “I had fun,” Billy says.

After a glance around to confirm they’re alone, Steve leans in, sliding his hands over Billy’s shoulders and to his back. “Me too,” he replies, lips brushing against Billy’s. They make out in the front seat of Billy’s car for a while like the horny teens that they are. After they break apart, Steve tilts his head and meet’s Billy’s gaze. “I have work tomorrow, but maybe I’ll see you after?”

Billy nods. “I’m working too, but yeah. I’ll come over after.” They kiss one final time and Steve says good night, going inside and shutting the door. He heads up to his room, a goofy smile plastered on his face. Spending time with Billy feels so — so right. It feels deeper than any of the fling’s he’s had before. The revelation of that fact startles him slightly, considering the way things began between them.

-

**Billy**

His dad is waiting for him when he gets home. It’s late, which tells him his dad isn’t up just because. He’s waiting. Neil’s eyes are on him the moment he shuts the front door. “What’ve you been up to, boy?” His tone is measured, but Billy can hear the creeping sound of danger just below the surface.

“I went to a movie with a friend.” Billy presses his sweaty palms to his hips, attempting to dry them some. He’s nervous. Sometimes he thinks his dad can smell it.

A sneer parts Neil’s lips, and Billy knows he’s fucked. “You know I don’t like liars.”

“But I did go to a movie.”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about. Don’t play stupid with me!” Neil jumps to his feet, knocking an empty can off the side table next to his recliner. He approaches Billy with a speed that surprises him, and now he’s choking on the smell of alcohol on breath as his back is slammed agaist the door. “I know you’re shaming me, you piece of shit! You’re out being a fucking faggot and I can’t accept that.” Neil hisses the word faggot, shaking Billy as he does for emphasis.

Billy keeps his mouth shut, eyes averted as his father screams in his face, droplets of spit smattering his cheek. His father’s fingers squeeze his biceps hard, and there’ll be bruises tomorrow. Billy knows if he denies it, it’ll make things worse.

“ _Look at me when I am talking to you, boy!_ ” Neil shouts, and he looks. Billy’s heart is in his ears, pounding so loudly he has to focus to hear what his father says next. “This is your last warning. If I find out you’ve been seeing him or any other fairy again, it’s your funeral. I will fucking _end_ you. You will be wishing you were never born.” He leans closer, so close Billy’s eyes go blurry with it. “Do I make myself clear?” Neil whispers.

“Yes, sir,” Billy responds in the same whisper.

His father releases him and steps back a few paces. He lifts his hand and gestures to the hall. “Go to your room. We’re done here.”

Billy does as he’s told. He barely manages to hold the tears back before shutting the door. They spill down his cheeks the moment the door clicks shut. Billy takes a shuddering gasp of a breath. He steadies himself against his door, staring at the texture of his wall for something else to focus on.

Tears slip silently down his face for a while. Then he remembers what his father says about pussies and crying. He wipes his eyes against his wrist, taking a more measured breath. Then, his anxiety is replaced with something else, something far more potent: rage. Rage at himself for being a- _pussyfaggotmistake_ \- his father’s voice echoes in his head with all the things he’s been called. He’s angry at the injustice of Neil Hargrove being his father, of the fact that he can’t just kill the man.

Instead, he vows to prove him wrong. Just as he has attempted to do every day of his life since he was twelve.

He’ll fucking _show him_.

-

The fire is still there when Billy wakes up. He gets dressed for work and makes himself look as good as he possibly can. Not like it’s hard.

Billy goes to work. It’s a Saturday, which means the housewives are all at the pool under the guise of bringing their children for some relief from the heat. He knows why they’re really there. Everyone does. The ten pounds of makeup, aquanet, and plastic jewelry is as obvious as a stop-sign at an intersection.

They’re there to see _him_ , to flirt with _him_ , and he’s not going to disappoint them.

He’ll show Neil.

He manages to get Mrs. Wheeler alone during his shift. They make a plan to meet that night, at the grimiest motel in town.

Billy forgets his promise to see Steve after work.

-

He’s driving to the motel when it happens. Something hits his car. It scares the absolute shit out of him. He’d been so focused on the road that the sudden jolt surprised him more than he should’ve.

Billy pulls over by the local steel mill to see what he could have possibly hit.

And then, it doesn’t fucking matter what he hit. His feet are swept out from beneath him and he falls on his chest with a loud thump.

Some unseen force takes him by his ankles and drags him into the steel mill.

Nobody is around to hear him scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!
> 
> This is the penultimate chapter. The final one will cover most of season 3. I know that sounds like a lot to cover, but I can make it work.
> 
> I plan to write more harringrove fanfic! If anybody's interested in beta'ing my work, I would be so grateful. I feel that the fact that I didn't have someone to beta this resulted in pacing that's frequently uneven. As a consequence, I've considered rewriting this, but I have other ideas for these two that may work better as a new story. Keep your eyes peeled for more!
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed this fic so far!


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! Trigger warning for discussion of a hospital environment and character death.

Steve’s hurt when Billy doesn’t come over after work.

He can’t call the Hargrove house to see if maybe Billy had just forgotten. Billy made it very clear that he couldn’t call.

He doesn’t hear from Billy for the rest of the weekend. He forgets to feel sorry for himself at some points, though, what with how occupied he is with breaking a Russian code.

Steve tries not to let the shock of suddenly being ghosted distract him from saving the world (again).

He’d be a liar if he said it didn’t sting, though.

-

Steve isn’t prepared for what Max and Jane tell him. He isn’t prepared for the sick clench in his stomach, the dizziness that suddenly overtakes him when Max utters the words “He’s one of the Flayed.”

He falls into a nearby chair, sucking in a shallow breath. “We have to save him,” Steve exhales, barely whispering.

Nancy looks at him with a pitying expression. Will speaks up. “We can’t. We tried, Steve. We don’t know where he is.”

If Steve’s lower lip begins to wobble, nobody says anything. Steve squeezes his eyes shut, trying to hold down the bile that rises in his throat. He only barely manages.

He drives Max home that night, half hoping Billy will be at their house, half knowing he won’t. He doesn’t say much the whole drive. They’re approaching the Hargrove house when Max speaks up. “We can save him, Steve.”

In that moment, he can’t really tell which of them she’s trying to convince.

Steve isn’t convinced.

-

Steve tries his best to keep his feelings under control. Stopping the Russians, protecting his kids from the Upside Down is what matters most. Billy’s beyond protection at this point.

-

They are _so close_. So close to stopping this thing, maybe once and for all.

The kids are trapped, so he’s racing to the mall to save them. He gets there just in time to see it happening. Billy’s car, flying through the parking lot towards Nancy’s, filled to the brim with kids.

Steve doesn’t stop to think. He knows what he needs to do.

The crunch of metal on metal is deafening. His seat belt keeps his body mostly in place, but a deep burn climbs up his neck with the force of the impact.

Both the Camaro and the car Steve and Robin are in keep sliding, eventually skidding to a stop a distance away. Steve looks up to see Billy crumpled in the driver’s seat, head leaning against the driver’s side door. His hair is matted with a black, viscous liquid and his eyes are closed; his skin is shiny with sweat. Steve feels his stomach drop at the sight, knowing he’s at least partially responsible for the damage. The other part is probably from Nancy shooting at him.

Steve doesn’t have time to wallow. He looks at Robin and asks, “Are you okay?”

She looks at him, features awash with terror and responds, breathless, “Ask me tomorrow?”

And then they see _it_. The Mind Flayer climbs over the mall, shaking the Earth with every step, and it’s go-time again. Jonathan peels up beside them and urges the two to get in, and they do, slamming the door to the trunk. Steve’s eyes are on the Camaro as they drive away, searching for any kind of movement within.

One moment, they’re being chased by the Mind Flayer. Then it turns around.

And then they’re chasing _it_.

They’re back at the mall again. He doesn’t remember whose idea it was to use the fireworks to distract the Mind Flayer, but it seems to work. The bombardment of explosives makes the monster scream in agony, Billy’s voice echoing its pain from the first floor. Steve takes this moment to attempt to save Jane from the flayed Billy.

He flies down the stairs, stumbling as he goes, but he makes it in time to see Billy’s hands around Jane’s neck, squeezing the life out of her.

Billy gasps, his grip visibly weakening.

“Seven feet,” Jane gasps, tears in her eyes. It makes Billy recoil slightly, eyes wide where Steve can see them behind his hair. “You told her… the wave was seven feet,” she continues, voice breaking on a sob.

Even from this distance, Steve can see Billy shaking.

“You ran to her, on the beach. There were seagulls.” Jane sniffles. “She wore a hat with a blue ribbon, a long dress with a blue and red flower, and yellow sandals covered in sand.” She smiles a little.

Billy’s features- mottled in thick black veins- are shockingly calm. He listens to her, a dazed look in his eyes.

Steve vaguely registers that what she’s doing is breaking the Mind Flayer’s hold on Billy. His heart squeezes, hope filling him to his toes.

“She was pretty. She was _really_ pretty.”

The black lines in his face have mostly receded, and his lower lip wobbles, tears welling in the man’s eyes. Billy nods.

“And, you were happy,” Jane sobs, nodding with Billy. A single tear slides down his cheek, barely clinging to the tip of his nose as Jane’s hand comes up to caress his cheek. Billy shuts his eyes, taking a wavering breath.

Steve holds his.

Nothing is registering in his mind but the sound of Jane’s voice and Billy’s stillness.

From somewhere above, Steve can hear Lucas scream, “We’re out!” Steve, Billy, and Jane all seem to reanimate at once.

The Mind Flayer’s attention is on Jane now. Billy stands between her and the monster, shoulders squared.

“Billy, _no_!” Steve screams.

The appendage the monster has within its mouth launches out at Billy, and he manages to catch it with his hands, a scream ripping from his throat at the effort of keeping its sharp teeth at bay. Steve doesn’t think. He runs to Billy’s side, grabbing onto the appendage to help. Billy looks over his shoulder at Steve, panic in his face.

“You idiot,” Billy whispers, and it’s too late. Several other tentacles shoot out from behind the monster, piercing Steve’s sides. It must’ve gotten Billy as well, because they scream in unison. It fucking _hurts_. Searing pain races through Steve’s body, and his grasp on the appendage fails, hands falling away. He musters enough energy to look at Billy, his face a pale white beneath the wash of neon lighting. “It should’ve just been me,” he says, black ooze pouring from his mouth.

Steve isn’t given a chance to reply. His body is thrown across the room and his body slams into a pillar. Despite what he thought, that the pain couldn’t get any worse, a sickening burst of pain shoots up his spine. His vision is blurry, but clear enough to watch Billy be impaled by the monster. The Mind Flayer itself falls with a crash not a moment after it has finished the job.

Steve is in so much pain, he doesn’t even have the ability to cry out for Billy.

Max does, though. She runs to her brother on unsteady legs, falling to his side to plead with him not to die.

Steve can see his features move, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. His lips form around a short sentence Steve can’t hear.

And then Billy Hargrove lies still. His sister shrieks his name, begging him to wake up. Jane wraps her arms around Max, holding her as the redhead sobs.

Steve lays there, silent, barely able to even breathe. Tears pool in his eyes, falling to the floor beneath his head.

He blacks out after that.

_

Blacking out is a rather fitting term, Steve muses. He’s trapped in an interminable darkness, surrounded by nothing but black. He doesn’t know how long it’s been this way, but being trapped here inside his head has felt like an eternity.

And one day, there is light.

His eyelids feel glued shut, but he manages to struggle enough to crack them. Bright white light fills the tiny slits of his eyes and he shuts them again, groaning in pain at the light.

He swallows- or rather tries to swallow- but there’s something in his throat making it hard.

Steve hears noises around him, faint murmuring. A chair scrapes across a tiled floor and he can hear someone shouting, “Nurse! Nurse, anybody! He’s awake!”

Steve didn’t know there were nurses in heaven. Didn’t seem like there would be a point.

He opens his eyes again to see he’s not in heaven. Quite the opposite.

Sterile white walls with bland artwork hanging on them closes him in. He’s in the hospital. There are people standing around his bed. Nancy, Jonathan, the kids, and Mrs. Byers.

He tries to move his head to get a better look around, but it feels like there’s a lead weight on it.

Instead, he tries to talk, but can’t do that either. There’s a plastic tube down his throat.

Steve finds that what he can do is lift his arms. He goes for the tube in his mouth and _pulls_.

It hurts more than he would have expected to pull it out. Rigid plastic sliding over soft insides isn’t ideal, he surmises.

He coughs as it leaves his mouth, gagging on it as it does. A sharp pain shoots down his back as he clenches from the gagging, so he lays back against the bed, gasping for air.

Nancy runs over to him, her face stricken with fear. She puts her hands on his chest and urges him to stay down.

Steve looks around again, noticing Robin sitting by his head. He hadn’t seen her before. She smiles at him. Her eyes are rimmed with red, but her smile is genuine.

He smiles back at her and the rest of them.

“How long?” Steve rasps, surprised by how grating his voice sounds.

Nancy is the one who answers. “They’ve had you under for about thirteen days now. You had severe internal and external bleeding, not to mention several cracked ribs and a concussion. You were a mess, Steve. You still are.”

Steve nods, taking in the information. He sits silently, processing Then he asks, “Have… are my parents…?”

“Oh, Steve,” Mrs. Byers sighs, and the pity in his voice tells him the answer is no. “I couldn’t get ahold of them. I’m so sorry, sweetie.” Mrs. Byers approaches and places her palm on his head, stroking his har back from his face.

Steve sighs. “It’s okay,” he lies. “Thank you all for being here,” he smiles, looking around the room at his friends. Robin squeezes his right bicep, her hand lingering there. Jane sits on the edge of the bed and lays across his legs, a watery smile on her face. Max smiles a little too from where she stands, her arms wrapped around her torso. He sees her, and then he remembers.

The images flash in his mind: Billy, his pain, his death.

His features wrinkle and Max frowns, averting her eyes. She seems to know what he’s thinking.

Steve hesitates. Then he asks, “Did I miss his funeral?” His voice is quiet, sad.

“Oh.” Max’s head shoots up and she looks at him with some expression Steve doesn’t know how to interpret. “You don’t know.” His brain is sluggish, so he just sits there and looks dumbly at her. She walks to the door to Steve’s hospital room and looks left and right down the hallway.

“I think he went outside to smoke,” Jonathan suggests from his place in the corner. “He’ll be back soon,” he says to Steve now.

Steve’s confused. “What? Who?” They’re all speaking English, with grammatically correct sentences, but they don’t make sense. Steve can’t process the meaning of the words in that order. “Who?” He asks again, a bit more frantic.

“Billy.” Robin says. “He’s okay. We all thought he was dead, too. The coroner screamed when he sat up inside the body bag. It was pretty funny.”

“We speculate he had enough of the Mind Flayer’s blood left in his body to heal him,” Nancy explains.

A hopeful rush of adrenaline tickles under Steve’s skin as what they’re saying begins to process in his mind. And, as they say: if you speak of the devil, the devil shall appear.

Billy stands in the doorway, looking as golden as ever. He’s got dark circle under his eyes and lines in his forehead Steve never noticed before, but he looks _beautiful_. The sheer fact that Billy’s alive is enough to make a wash of emotion well up in his chest.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Billy acknowledges, tone all too casual like Steve didn’t just watch him die.

Well, he didn’t _just_ watch it happen, he realizes belatedly. Everyone else has had time to get used to the reality of the situation, which somewhat explains the casual attitude.

“And you’re alive,” Steve retorts, his lips quirking upwards.

Billy’s eyes are on his, warm and gentle. Steve takes in his appearance and it’s like a breath of fresh air.

Max approaches her brother and wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his leather jacket. He puts his arm over her back and gives her a little squeeze, much to Steve’s surprise. Nobody else seems to find this abnormal.

Lots of things have changed since he’s been out, apparently.

Steve gets tired quickly. The chatting, the catching up on things he’s missed, it makes him so _exhausted_. The nurse explains that that’s normal, that it’ll be like that for a while. After about two hours, everyone begins to depart. This is when he finds out that he’s not in Hawkins, but rather in Muncie because they have better hospitals there. It’s bit of a drive back to Hawkins from Muncie and it’s getting dark, which makes sense why Joyce is ready to get home.

Billy lingers when everyone else has departed the room. He approaches the bed slowly, unsure.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to bite you. Come here and sit down, asshole.”

Billy does as he’s told, pulling a chair closer to the bed and resting his hand on Steve’s. It’s warm and coarse and reassuring against Steve’s palm, and it makes him feel more at ease than he’s felt in months. Steve wraps his fingers around Billy’s hand and squeezes it weakly.

“I missed you,” he states plainly.

Billy’s eyes are focused on the window rather than on Steve. “I didn’t mean to… to ignore you. I didn’t want to do any of it,” Billy mutters, voice quiet.

“I know.” Steve nods. They’re quiet for a while. Steve sees Max peek her head around the corner once, but she quickly retreats when she sees them holding hands.

“I’m not the same as I was before,” Billy states. His voice is cold, tight with a lack of feeling. “I’m not the Billy you knew.”

Steve smiles a little. “You trying to scare me off Hargrove? You’re still you.”

“I have scars.”

“And I have demons. Maybe it’s good you’re not the Billy I knew before. The Billy I used to know would never hug his sister.”

Billy’s mouth opens and he can almost hear “She’s not my sister” before it even comes out, but it never does. Billy fights the instinctual response, shutting his mouth again. His eyes move to Steve’s, unreadable. “My scars are ugly.”

“They’re unique.”

Billy huffs, a pinch appearing between his brows. He doesn’t like being argued with.

“I don’t care about your scars, Billy. I care that you’re alive and healthy and that you’re here.” Steve hopes the unsaid _I still want you_ comes across in his tone. He thinks it does, judging by the fact that Billy brings Steve’s knuckles to his lips, holding his hand there a moment. Billy closes his eyes and inhales before lowering Steve’s hand back to the bed.

“You might change your mind when you see them.”

“I promise you I won’t.”

Billy looks at Steve, searching his face for any hint that he’s lying. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure about anything in my entire life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in two days!
> 
> I hope you like the final chapter. Let me know down in the comments!


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